The Deepest Road
by ImaItrew
Summary: It's not everyday that a King asks you to do him a favour, it's even less often that said King wants you to risk your life because of a hunch... in the Deep Roads. How will Hawke cope with someone even more sarcastic than her? And how will Fenris cope with a royal rival? Set in Dragon Age 2. Fenris/Hawke Alistair/Hawke. My first fanfic- please read! -COMPLETE-
1. Chapter 1

"You _cannot_ go to a ball like that…" She heard Leandra chastise across the room.

Hawke sighed as she laid her helmet to rest on the table. "I do know that, Mother dear, I _have_ just come in from a job. Please give me time to at least have a bath."

Leandra tutted and turned back to the fire, "Why don't you ever take jobs that don't involve you coming home drenched in blood?"

"I'm not drenched, Mother, I'm just spattered… and not _all_ of my jobs involve blood. There was that time that kitten got caught up the tree and Anders was insistent we get it down… even though we had to go all the way to Sundermount…"

"No blood, but you came back with no eye brows either; that's just as bad."

"Yes well," She pulled her fingers free of her gauntlets," Merrill seemed to think that it was a fantastic idea to fell the tree with a fire spell."

"You looked terrible."

"You should have seen the kitten…"

"Well, tonight will involve no fire spells and _no blood_."

"Shouldn't be too difficult, after all, Anders is holed up in his clinic, Merrill has been obsessing over that stupid mirror… although Aveline _will_ be there so…" Hawke smirked.

Leandra stared at her for a moment. "I do wish you would make some more… _normal_ friends, dear. Anyway, put on that dress I had made for you, the King of Fereldan will be there afterall."

Hawke hesitated. "By new dress… you mean that 'red thing' that's been hanging in my room?"

"Yes, dear."

"Will I hear the end of it if I don't wear it?"

"No."

"Then I shall wear… the 'red thing'."

Leandra grunted. "I will find you a suitable husband if it kills me."

Hawke smiled stiffly. "I don't need you to, Mother, I'm fine."

"Not the elf again…"

"Fenris and I are friends…"

"Andraste guide me, I'd prefer the impoverished mage to him."

Hawke pursed her lips. "You win. I'll go and change."

Leandra smiled sweetly, "Please, dear, don't let me stop you… and _do_ try and do _something_ with your hair, you've been wearing that helmet all day and it shows."

….

"Really Aveline, please stop laughing, it is most uncouth."

The guardswoman gasped for air as she stifled the sniggers. "My apologies, Mistress Hawke, I just did not expect to witness such a thing."

"I'm wearing a dress, not a silly hat." Hawke snapped irately as she began to rearrange the fabric.

"You look _lovely_, darling. Don't you agree, Donnic?" Her mother soothed.

The dark haired man hid his amusement much better than his betrothed, but not quite well enough that Hawke hadn't noticed. "The belle of the ball, Mistress Hawke," He smirked, "the young nobles will be lining up to dance with her."

"To _what with me? _Mother, you said nothing about dancing."

"Nonsense, Hawke," Aveline grinned, "I hear you do an excellent fox-trot…"

Hawke glared, "I don't wish to fall out with you Aveline, but you may wish to sleep with your eyes open tonight."

"Who's planning on sleeping?" She shot a quick, sultry look toward Donnic who smiled shyly.

"That is actually disgusting."

Leandra smiled, "Nonsense, dear, they mean they'll be on patrol."

It was Hawke's turn to smirk as her friend matched her hair with her skin colour. "And then some…"

Donnic cleared his throat. "_Anyway_, we are here to collect you ladies and escort you both to the Keep. The Viscount and the King of Ferelden await your pleasure."

Hawke snorted mockingly. "_You_ are escorting _me?"_

Aveline's stance stiffened. "He's a member of the guard, Hawke. You will show him absolute respect, am I clear?"

"Him, fine; _you_ have lost that luxury for the evening. I am officially annoyed at you for the duration of the night."

A faint smile returned to the red-head's lips. "Fine. Come along then, _Lady Hawke._" Donnic spluttered into a laugh.

Hawke said nothing for a moment. "Make that a week_, Guard Captain_." And she stormed past her friend with her mother at her heels.

The night time air was refreshing and cooled her cheeks. Hawke gave a disheartened sigh, fancy functions weren't her thing… although this was a fact her mother refused to acknowledge, apparently. She'd much rather be in the Hanged Man, destroying Varric at back-gammon with a pint of whatever swill they were trying to pass as ale that evening in her hand.

However, the arrival of the new Fereldan King had knocked the whole city on its arse. Young noble women giggled about his good looks, the refugees whispered of a new hope to return home, merchants grumbled that their cheap labourers might abandon them to rebuild their country…

The Blight had ended, true enough. That was cause to rejoice. But she didn't see why it should involve her dressing like an Orlesian peacock and her mother trying to marry her off to some spineless snob.

Her thoughts faded as Aveline cleared her throat. "You do look alright, you know. You just look like one of _them_, and not you. You look very… _refined_."

"What makes you think I care?"

"How about the fact that you've stormed off and left your mother about ready to pass out back there?"

"Really?" Hawke turned to check the path behind her, her mother was nowhere to be seen.

"She's apparently decided to wear some Orlesian shoes and she thinks that her feet may physically fall off… but Donnic is with her so we can wait. I've told him he can carry her on his back if it comes to it."

Hawke couldn't help but chuckle. "So you and my mother will have something in common...?"

"When I ride him, Hawke, it isn't on his back."

"Of course, my bad… and please don't tell me things like that again…"

"Oh, and your mother is quite upset with you. Apparently she bought shoes for you as well, and you are quite clearly not wearing them since you managed to jog half the way to the Keep…"

Hawke stopped. "Those were _shoes_?"

Aveline smiled fondly, "What did you think they were?"

"Some sort of weapon? The pointy bit on the end could easily cave someone's skull…"

"…that's the _'heel'_, Hawke."

"Well no wonder my mother's feet are falling off then."

"So what are you wearing under there if not the deadly shoes?" Hawke shrugged and lifted her dress slightly. "Ferelden boots?" Aveline groaned and rubbed her temples. "Maker help me, Hawke, how can you wear an Orlesian dress with the boots you served at Ostagar in?"

"A tribute to our new king?"

Aveline sighed. "Look, when we get in there, I'll get you some dress shoes. No heel, you'll be fine."

Hawke gave a sly smile, "and how do _you_ know where to find fancy shoes, Aveline?"

The Guard Captain frowned, "I don't wear armour all the time, you know…"

"Really? _You_ have other clothes?"

"…Do you want the shoes or not?"

"If it's no trouble?"

Aveline gave a soft laugh, "you're _always_ trouble; I don't know how I put up with you…"

"I could suggest that it's my flawless charm, or possibly my unrivalled good looks, but I don't want to come across as vain..." The pale swordswoman grinned.

"By the way, I was wrong. That dress does suit you. Just don't go getting all fancy on me now, alright?"

"I'll be back to rolling around in the blood and guts with you before you know it."

Aveline wore a horrified expression, "well, when you put it like _that.._."

"Maker's breath, Hawke, you _do_ scrub up nicely, don't you?" Hawke twisted to see Varric coming down the stairs from the Keep. "Been waiting for you, didn't realise you'd be in a _dress_…" He chortled.

"For every clever word from you, Varric, I shall remove a body part when I get my sword back."

"No fair, Hawke, all my words are clever… you'd leave Bianca a widow!"

"Alright, I'll alter the threat. Don't comment on the dress and Bianca need never fear."

"All I ask, my friend." He gave a small bow.

"Shall we go in, then? I'm sure no men will sass me with my trusty dwarf escort."

Varric laughed, "Hawke, even with all your wealth you can't afford me- I'm a taken man, and I'm on business… _official_ business." He added swiftly when he caught the guard woman's glare.

"And we're waiting for your mother…" Aveline reminded her sternly.

"Well, the Captain of the Guard is waiting for her. And I'm _sure_ that Mother wouldn't want me wasting good flirting time."

"You know that the broody elf probably isn't here…"

Hawke sucked back her retort. "I _know_ that, but I can't flirt with you; Bianca would get jealous."

The dwarf chuckled, "you've got me there. Though, I guess Bianca would understand me doing a favour for a dear friend… this once."

"Then escort me in, 'dear friend'." Hawke smiled and took the hand he held up. They began to walk up the stairs to the Keep.

"Hold on!"

"Oh, Aveline, do lighten up."

"I'll wait here for Leandra. But after this, Hawke, we're even. No more holding the laughing thing over my head."

"Fine!" Hawke waved. "See you inside."

"Of course you will," the shields woman nodded, "I'm not staying out here all night and missing your disastrous flirting attempts."

"I've three words for you, Aveline… Copper. Marigold. Wreath."

"… Get out of my sight."

Hawke gave another cheeky wave and retreated swiftly after Varric. The dwarf shook his head and smirked as she reached him. "You're a braver soul than I am, Hawke. Aveline so much as glares at me and I piss myself."

"You should, I imagine she's got a _lot_ of dirt on you…"

"Not that much dirt…"

"Enough, though."

They reached the top of the stairs and Seneschal Bran bowed his head. "Whom do I have the honour of announcing to the other guests, Lady…?"

"…Hawke."

"Hawke?" Bran blinked in surprise, "As in _Serah_ Hawke? Well, don't you look… different…?" He glanced her up and down furtively.

Varric snorted a laugh under his breath but quickly stifled it when she glared in his direction. "Yes, yes, it's all very confusing, isn't it? I put on a dress and the whole of Kirkwall forgets who I am and that I can kill them without breaking a sweat…"

"I didn't mean…" Bran stuttered, he coughed to clear his throat and regained his composure. "I meant only that you look quite the lady in that attire. It is quite becoming of you… much more so than all that metal…"

"You mean 'armour'?"

"Yes, yes."

"And was that a 'compliment'?"

He gave her a shrewd look, almost as if he'd finally recognised her. "It was. But I wouldn't get used to them if I were you."

"And I thought we were going to be best friends from now on."

The usual expression of mild disgust returned to his features. "I'll announce you now, shall I? And this is…?"

"Seneschal Bran, I am _wounded_ that you do not recognise me. I am Varric of the Dwarven Merchant's guild; I represent the City of Kirkwall back in Orzammar…"

"We don't _have_ a Dwarven Merchant's guild representative for Kirkwall." The red-head snapped as he folded his arms.

Varric smiled sweetly, "My dear Seneschal, I am sure that the Viscount and the King of Ferelden would be very interested to hear how you denied entry to a Ferelden merchant, here only to ease transactions between our two great…"

Bran waved his hand as if to silence Varric. "Fine, fine. Do what you want." He glanced up to Hawke and sighed, "It's not like you won't anyway." He opened the door for her and stepped inside. "Lady Hawke and Varric of the Merchant's guild."

Hawke grunted as she walked passed him into the large room, "He could have dropped the 'lady' part."

"I think it suits you. Now, if you'll excuse me I think I'll go mingle…"

Hawke snatched his hand back as he took it from hers. "You can't leave me alone with these people, Varric!"

"Sure I can, find the bar, have a few drinks, bat your eye lashes at a few unsuspecting victims… you never know, you might get lucky."

"Or some poor soul will get very _un_lucky…"

"Have faith, my dear Hawke." Varric scuttled away into the crowd and Hawke was left alone. She muttered a few obscenities before analysing her surroundings. It didn't take her long to locate the source of ale and wine. She made her way gingerly to the table in the corner, being very careful to avoid all eye contact and push on.

It's not that she was dead-set against the idea of courting, but sadly (at least for her mother) weak nobles sewn to their own purses were not her type. Those who wore so many colours that they resembled a fruit salad… even less so.

Hawke sighed a smile at the bartender. He looked barely beyond a boy, and his wide eyed amazement at the finery around him betrayed his humble status, though he had clearly seen these sights before. He fussed for a minute cleaning the bar; "Sorry, most guests just pounce on the waiters for a drink, not usual for them to approach the table directly… Mead or wine?"

"Ale?" She asked hopefully.

He scanned her up and down, a little shocked at the request. "My… apologies, I thought you were…"

"A lady? No, perish the thought! Though I may be interested if you have any Agrisio Pavanii?"

The young man's eyes lit up, as if his passions had been appealed to. "An excellent choice… um… my lady! So few people appreciate such nectar. A rare Tevinter tipple, indeed. I shall see to it immediately. I believe we store such a fine wine in the Keep's cellar."

Hawke smiled. "I'd bring up a few bottles if I were you."

"As you will, lady." The small man scuffled away excitedly.

Hawke watched him go with a small smile. She didn't know what she'd said to please him, but she was glad to be of service. It didn't take long for the raven haired youth to reappear, fumbling with four bottles of his finest vintage.

The swordswoman frowned a little, "Won't you be in a bit of trouble if the Viscount realises you've given four bottles of his finest to his guests?"

"Not at all, miss." The young man smiled, "in fact, he can't stand the stuff. Any visitors from the Imperium always bring him a bottle with their compliments, I swear, my lord grumbles every time. He'll be delighted to know I've managed to finally clear our stock… and that we've finally had people cultured enough to appreciate it."

"Four doesn't seem like a _massive_ stock…"

"Just you wait, miss." His grin widened, "This is but the beginning! I'll bring up a few more in a bit. We'll soon find you a noble lord to carry you home."

The blonde didn't know whether to be insulted or amused. "What makes you think that I'm not already spoken for?"

His original flustered demeanour returned faintly. "Forgive me, my lady. But I've never known a … '_lady'_ to ask for ale."

Hawke couldn't suppress the laugh and his smile returned. "Don't worry about it. But I'm in no rush to find a noble lord, especially one who will have to carry me home."

"Of course." He poured the deep red into a fine crystal glass and passed it to her. "Should I keep an eye out anyway, miss? I'd hate to see you left passed out on the Viscount's floor."

"You better had." She sighed and turned to face the crowd once more. "What can you tell me about my fellow guests? Anyone to avoid?"

The young man leaned over the table, in a laid back manner she was fairly sure the Viscount wouldn't approve of. "Most are the norm. I'm usually the waiter, just been promoted for the night by the Seneschal when the barman got sick. But that means I know more than he would about these. Him there…" She noticed his accent had slipped into a more common dialect, as if he had relaxed in her presence. He nodded towards a fair haired individual in such horrific looking clothing that he had to be Orlesian. "He's the Compte de… something. He's a notorious womaniser. Likes to get ladies drunk and have his way."

The individual in question caught her staring, and a slick smile spread across his pasty face. She dropped her eyes and shuddered. "An upstanding gentleman, I'm sure."

"And him!" He nodded towards a frighteningly tall, lean man in a dark green robe with deeply tanned skin. He had long dark hair, several piercings and an icy stare. "He's Andwin, apparently from Rivain. He's always here, trying to renegotiate trade to any Kirkwaller who'll listen. If you get close to him, he's got markings all over his face. I think he's trying to be pleasant in his own way, but he just makes you feel so small…"

Hawke sipped at her wine and recalled what Isabella had told her about tattoos and piercings signing rank and importance. "A fine fellow for chat, indeed."

"And _that,_" the dark haired man risked a wrist flick in the next victim's direction, but as her eyes swung to look, her gaze locked with that of a young, tall man's across the room, who was staring at her intently. His dark brown eyes seemed quizzical and his lips were curved with a slight smile. Hawke felt her cheeks flush and her eyes dropped to the drink in her hand. But still she couldn't help but risk another peak at the sandy haired man to see if he was still looking. His eyes were still on her, though she noticed that he kept glancing down to a figure on his left. Although she tried to peer, the figure was blocked from view. Someone sitting, perhaps?

Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she turned to see if there was anyone else around that could possibly have his attention. There didn't seem to be anyone about.

Hawke risked raising her eyes to him once more, and this time his lips moved.

_Two hundred?_

Hawke tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Two hundred? What was two hundred? The glances to the seated character on his left became swifter and his expression became more incredulous. Hawke couldn't help but down her drink and move towards him.

She was careful to avoid his line of sight and made her way cautiously in that direction. She cursed when she felt a light tug on her wrist. Hawke turned to come face to face with the Compte de something. That sickly grin spread across his features once more and he sucked in a breath to speak.

Hawke tugged herself free in one swift movement. "Sorry. Not interested, bye!" She quickened her pace to increase the distance between them, but before she could check, a familiar voice rang in her ears…

"I shit you not! After she felled all those darkspawn… at _least_ two hundred, she swung her sword and not only cut down eight rock wraiths… but sliced an ogre in half…!" The tale was met with gasps.

"A wonder woman indeed… I'll bet she's no shortage of suitors."

"You'd think that but no, I think she's got her heart set on something _particular_…oh! Hawke! We were just talking about you…"

Hawke turned slowly to come face to face with the seated figure of Varric, aptly holding court of a sizeable group of nobles… and the sandy haired young man, who now stared at her intently once more. As were the rest of the enthralled guests. Her cheeks flushed.

_Shit_.

Hawke chuckled nervously and tucked that same stubborn lock of hair behind her ear once more. She gave a fleeting head nod to those looking at her and fled into the crowd.

This time she did not care to step so delicately, Hawke walked swiftly, brusquely brushing anyone to one side. Someone caught her wrist once more. Hawke's other hand clenched to a fist. She spun, ready to smack the Compte de something straight in his disgusting smile, but her fist quickly loosened when she saw her mother's angry features. With the same movement as before, she broke free, "Not now, Mother."

Hawke marched onwards, past the poor raven haired youth who passed her a bottle without question; both fists clenched now, she all but ran towards Aveline's quarters. She slammed the door behind her as she reached the bottom of the stairs and retreated to Aveline's office. She dragged the desk chair over and slumped into it.

_Shit_.

Hawke uncorked the bottle of red without hesitation and took a large gulp. She knew that Varric's tales were taller than two qunari put together, of course, but she never expected to be there listening to them with all eyes fixed on her. She supposed she felt embarrassed more than anything. Hawke didn't know who the sandy haired man was, and she didn't really care, but for some reason thinking about how he had looked at her made her cheeks redden again.

She took another swig and sighed. The door creaked open behind her; she turned, fully expecting to see her furious mother or an apologetic Varric. Hawke saw neither; she saw the Compte de something leaning coyly against the door frame. "Mon Cherie, we are alone at last."

"No, I _was_ alone… and now you're here. So I'm not anymore." Hawke grunted in annoyance.

"Ahhh, but you tease me. You must know I could not resist such an opportunity?"

Apparently her most terrifying glare was doing nothing to put him off. She supposed his voluminous clothes might be distorting his vision. "Serah, I don't know your name; so I'm not sure how I'm meant to know what you can resist… or what 'opportunity' I've given you."

"Why, you cannot deny the tension between us? How you've been playing 'hard to get' all evening?"

"Oh is _that_ what that was? And there was me thinking that you were playing 'easy to resist'…"

The tall bulky man approached her and leaned downwards towards her, his hands rested on the chair arms by her waist. "It seems that you do not have much respect for your betters, hmmmmm? Perhaps I could teach you some manners?"

"Given your conduct so far, I find that unlikely."


	2. A True Rose

Thank you so much to those of you who gave me feedback last week. I hope that you enjoy this chapter!

...

Alistair cast another doubtful glance down at the dwarf. "Are you _sure_ she won't mind us swooping in on her? She didn't seem too impressed with you before… and I'm not all that talented at dealing with angry females." The way Varric shrugged his shoulders and smiled made the tall man almost feel at ease.

"Relax, my dear King, Hawke is a modest soul. She's probably just a little embarrassed how loud and far I've been singing her praises." Varric came to a halt and leaned against the bar. A young man leaned over and asked for his order. "How about a tall, good looking blonde in a red dress… with a not so happy expression?"

The boy nodded, seemingly a little relieved. "Are you her friend, Serah dwarf? Thank the Maker! She stormed toward the Guard Captain's quarters, and the Compte de… something… he went after her muttering something about it being his 'lucky day'. I've been trying to get someone's attention but if I tell the guards, the Compte will make sure I never wait the Keep again. Please, Serah, make sure that my lady is safe."

Alistair tensed and turned to head in that direction but to his immense amazement, the beardless dwarf just laughed. "We'll find her, lad, but there's not many people I'd worry about being able to hurt Hawke." Nevertheless, Varric broke away from the conversation and scurried up the stairs. Alistair followed; his hand on his sword hilt. His small companion led him along the twists and turns to the barracks and they listened outside the door. Varric seemed to lean back against the stone frame, almost as if he were waiting for something, which made Alistair even more agitated.

"Why are we waiting? Your friend could be in…" Just as he spoke, there was a smash and a wail from behind the door. Alistair tore his sword from its scabbard and burst through, he turned the corner sharply ready to face whatever manner of man lay ahead. It hadn't been the first time he'd rescued a damsel in distress, though admittedly he couldn't think of many who'd ever overly appreciated it- Leliana certainly hadn't…

Yet as he pushed forward, he was not angered by the sight of a woman being taken advantage of; rather the would-be assailant cowered, quivering on the floor. "Please, mademoiselle, I… apologise…"

The blonde woman stood over him with her arms crossed beneath her chest, rather than concerned or worried, she seemed a little bored and irritated. "Good. Now, who has taught _who_ about manners?"

The man's legs shook as he stood, and he made his exit swift.

The woman's eyes shifted towards him and the words stuck in Alistair's throat. "I hope you're not planning on using that on me?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

He followed her gaze and realised that he still held his sword, ready for use. He slipped it back to his belt. "No…"

"Hawke!" Varric trundled into the room. "Told you you'd find a noble worthy of your time."

"You mean the cretin who just tried to assault me? Indeed, he seems quite the prize."

"Oh, you act all coy if you want, I know you were loving the attention. Still, I'm safe in the knowledge that no one could replace your handsome, rugged sidekick…"

"You mean Anders?"

"Hawke! In a moment I might cut you out of mine and Bianca's will!"

"Hmmmmm… anyway, who's this?" Alistair was a little shocked when she nodded towards him and took a swig of wine straight from the bottle. She offered him some before continuing. "What's your story, stranger? Tell me you're not involved with one of this one's crazy schemes? Seriously, after tonight's happenings I don't mind telling you… you're going to get scammed."

Alistair laughed a little and took the bottle, but only sipped gingerly. "My name's Alistair and I'm from Ferelden."

"You know, that is such a coincidence! I hear that the new King of Ferelden is called Alistair…"

Alistair took another sip and felt embarrassment flare and glanced back down to the dwarf. "Errr, yes about that…"

Hawke followed his gaze to her short associate with an expression of annoyed realisation. "You've been chatting up the King of Ferelden, haven't you?"

"I won't lie, I've been bigging you up…"

Hawke took the wine back when he offered. "Why?"

"Well, seems he's got some trouble in the Deep Roads, needs an _experienced_ fighter…"

"You could have just let _him_ ask me that, Varric…"

Alistair cleared his throat, to remind them that he was still there. "Mistress Hawke, your… associate… has told me that you and your party have already encountered the Deep Roads and come out alive. I must confess I need someone of your skill."

Hawke rolled her eyes and took another mouthful of the red. "Why is it _always_ me?"

"Because you have maps, experience and that killer instinct that most employers admire?" Varric offered.

"Well, obviously." Alistair lightly chuckled. "That and you may end up with a mini Blight in the Free Marches if we don't get to the bottom of my little problem."

"…Tell me more… my King…"

….

Away from the overzealous bustle of the ball, Hawke and Alistair walked through the Viscount's gardens. Hawke had never been in there before; there was a strange peace and serenity that seemed alien to Kirkwall. The wildness of some of the flowers reminded her of Lothering in an odd way. Often, she'd gone running in the fields to look for elfroot when playfights with Carver had escalated a little too far. She would then run back to Bethany who would make a salve and they'd paste it all over Carver's body before Mother could find the bruises. Hawke smiled a little to herself, no wonder Leandra had grey hair.

But she wasn't here to admire the view, nor reminisce about times long since lost. "So, to cut a long story short, the dark spawn haven't dispersed as much as you'd like and you want someone to cut them off before they run to the surface?"

Alistair smiled wryly. "You make it sound so simple. There are several different thaigs around Kirkwall alone. We need to post a number of people in each to make sure there's not a secondary surge in the Free Marches. Varric tells me you've got quite a team, and I've brought some men. If we pool our resources we can head it off without causing panic."

"I thought that darkspawn weren't meant to be able to organise themselves with the arch-demon dead… so what makes you think that they're managing it in spite of that?"

"Well, it's happening in Ferelden. We've seen their organisation in battle, we dealt with something a little similar right after the arch-demon was defeated, but that was two different factions of darkspawn warring. Now, it seems, they're all united. I've sent the Warden Commander out to work out the cause of it back home, and we've had direct contact with a Grey Warden from Orlais so they're warned… but we know of precious few of the Order here. I've sent the Arl of Redcliffe all the way to Starkhaven to pass on the message. But as Kirkwall is technically the closest port of call I thought I'd come here in person. My men have done some investigating nearby and there are reports of missing people near to most of the known Deep Roads entrances, so it seems that it was the right call."

Hawke smiled softly to herself as she caught sight of a Ferelden rose bush beside her, her mother's favourite. She couldn't resist touching one of the flowers, how the sight of it brought back images of her childhood home and the towering rose bush her father had planted as a gift to her mother- a sight she would never see again. How sad that all she had left to remind her of Lothering were the flowers she paid so very little heed to when she had the chance. After a moment she became aware of Alistair shuffling, and her senses swiftly returned as she turned back to him. "Sounds like the best plan. Give me a day to assemble my team and we'll head into the Deep Roads as soon as possible. This is too urgent to delay… what?"

When she looked up Alistair was wearing a slight smile and a look of what could be described as transfixion- either that or complete bemusement. Hawke blushed; she narrowed her eyes in the hope that appearing angry would make him stop. He seemed a little shocked when he realised her scrutiny and when he spoke, his words were stuttered. "Erm, what? As in to say, I didn't realise you were a …'flower lady' when I suggested we walk around the gardens…"

Hawke forced a laugh, she hoped it sounded real enough and not just a ploy to diffuse the awkwardness that had risen between them. "I'm not; just thinking of home. You don't see many flowers in a city whose history is based on chains."

Alistair watched her for a moment; it was quite the romantic setting had he been in the mind for it. The moonlight, the garden, the beautiful woman that stood before him admiring roses and smiling softly. It really was a pity that something so dark had brought him to this place and this moment.

"I must confess, when Varric told me of your prowess on the battlefield, you weren't exactly what I pictured…"

"What _did_ you picture?" Hawke sounded a little wary.

"Honestly? A lady of much bigger stature, probably still wearing bloodied armour and running around with a sword. "

"Ahhh, I didn't realise you'd seen me earlier today."

Alistair couldn't suppress the laugh. "Well, you can imagine my shock when I saw you posing all pretty in a fantastic red dress."

Hawke glanced at the floor, obviously a little surprised by the comment. She tucked away that stubborn lock of hair again and gave a small smile. "I don't pose."

"I don't mean you were _'posing'_ persay, but you know… looking…. um… To say that, well… you know what I mean."

"I wish I could say that I do…"

"Yes well… um…" He laughed nervously, "You know I'm not very good at this." He ran his fingers through his hair and cursed to himself.

"That makes two of us." The tall blonde smiled back, though her eyes flickered as if frightened of catching his gaze. "I should really go. We'll meet at my mansion tomorrow evening to go over the maps and check the location of each thaig, if you wish?"

"I would feel strange entering a lady's home without buying her dinner first…" He had the bite back the swearing. _Why had he just said that?! _Of course, it was funny to tease lay sisters and young Mothers with such comments, but Hawke would either think him a fool or a letch.

Hawke didn't comment on it. "Then it's a good thing that I'm not a lady, isn't it?" She turned away from him, "Good night, Your Majesty."

"Please, call me Alistair."

Her head cocked to one side so he could just make out the slight smile on her lips, "Alright then, good night… _Alistair."_

…

It was almost breaking into daylight by the time Hawke trundled from the ball. Too tired to wait, she had ignored Aveline's orders and began the walk home without an accompanying guard. She would no doubt face the Guard Captain's wrath in the morning… she never _had_ retrieved those shoes either.

Wearily, Hawke pushed open the door to her home and gave a heavy sigh of relief when it clicked behind her. As she made her way through the hall she passed her mother's room and smiled to herself when she heard the light snoring from within. No doubt Mother was ecstatic… after all, it was hardly a secret that her daughter had spent hours entertaining the Ferelden King while all the other beauties had been all but been ignored... she wasn't sure what Leandra would say when she found out her daughter was busy talking shop about all the things she hated.

Hawke had to admit, she wasn't entirely certain what she thought about the matter herself. The attention- if it _was_ attention and not just something she was imagining- was rather flattering. But the swordswoman was unsure if it was welcome or not. Even if he was interested at all, he probably wouldn't be when he saw her in her usual armour, and her attentions ran in other directions.

The 'Hawke' he had seen tonight was merely a machination of the dreams her mother had once had for herself… she supposed that's why she had run from Varric's stories rather than smack the dwarf with his own crossbow until he was silly. Because even though she knew those tales had less truth to them than Merrill had sense, she felt she had been listening to stories about someone who didn't exist at all.

She scaled the stairs to her quarters.

"So I hear that you've been courting a King?"

Hawke all but jumped out of her skin and her hand flew over her mouth to stop the involuntary scream. She sucked in breath. The sight of the man before her was a welcome one and made her smile in spite of her breathlessness. "Only if you class 'discussing business' as 'courting'… and by that logic I'm married to about six people. Also, just a quick question, Fenris… why are you lurking in my bed room..?"

"I didn't intend to, your mother came home and I feel that I put her… 'ill at ease'… so I came up here to wait your return."

"Well you put _me_ 'ill at ease' when you jump out of the shadows and I'm about to take off my clothes!"

"Really? Maybe I should have waited?"

"… Leave the bad flirting to Anders, Fenris, you're better than this." Hawke chuckled as her heart returned to a normal pace. "And another question actually, why are you in my house _at all_ near the break of dawn?"

"… I had a nightmare…"

"Fenris!"

"I dreamt that a beardless dwarf stumbled drunkenly into my mansion and told me that you were flirting with the King of Ferelden. Also that we're all going back into the Deep Roads for some royal mission to defend Kirkwall against the dark spawn."

"So what happened at the end? Did you wake up and realise you weren't wearing any clothes?"

"Hawke, you _know_ that I will follow you wherever you lead. But there are a few… _issues_… with this venture that you're planning."

"Are you sure you're not just jealous?" She asked playfully.

Fenris smiled softly, and gave her a look of fondness. "Is there a reason to be?"

"Well, that's up to you, isn't it?" She said almost sullenly. Always with the semantics… the fact that he never came outright and _said_ anything frustrated her no end. But she supposed that she was just as guilty of that as he.

"Hmmm… well, Aveline, for example… you think that she can leave her post for weeks with only a day's notice?"

"I didn't think about that…"

"And Isabella seems to spend every waking hour searching for that artefact… drunk, I might add…"

"Alright, Fenris, I get the point… I am _very_ tired… and **grumpy** I would like to point out."

"And, to quote Varric, Merrill will wilt if she is underground too long. I cannot see her…"

"Fenris!" In a surge of impatience, Hawke moved towards him and put her finger to his lips to silence him. His eyes widened a little and only then did she realise what she'd done. "I mean… this can wait until the morning, can't it?"

Fenris met her gaze steadily, "It can… _why_ is your finger still on my lips?"

She didn't say anything. She couldn't tell whether he was amused or confused… Hawke let the offending hand drop and her gaze swerved to focus on a particularly interesting mark on the wall, how could she expect him to reciprocate her feelings when she shied from them herself after all? "Hawke," She heard him sigh, her heart jumped. She was either about to be crushed or elated. She felt his fingers caress her cheek and he raised her chin so that their eyes met once more. "You look beautiful. More beautiful than anyone I've seen in my life. A true rose." He kissed her forehead and withdrew from the room, leaving Hawke alone.


	3. Of Pots and Pirates

"Any letters for me, Bodahn?"

"No letters, my lady, but there was something… left on your doorstep this morning."

Hawke groaned, "If that brat from next door has left any more…" Hawke's eyes nearly popped out of her head when he held up the Ferelden rose. "Errrr… are you sure that's not another delivery for Mother?"

"Your mother seemed just as baffled as you are, my lady. Perhaps you gained an admirer last night?"

_A true rose._

Fenris, could he have…? He had _finally_ realised her feelings and decided upon his own?

"Ahhhhh! Messere! A smile that confirms your mother's suspicions, I'm delighted for you, my lady!"

"That's quite enough of that from you, thank you Bodahn." She took the rose from him and smiled to herself as she retreated back up to her room. So he _did_ care for her the same way. Obviously she knew he had a bit of a soft spot for her, but they had never discussed the true nature of their feelings.

"Would her ladyship like some breakfast? No doubt you've got a busy day ahead of you?" She heard the dwarf in her service shout after her.

"Have Orana throw something together, I'll have to eat it and run… oh, and Bodahn!"

Bodahn appeared at the bottom of the stairs, "Yes, my lady?"

"Make sure we've plenty to drink. The King of Ferelden is attending a meeting here this evening."

"The _King of Ferelden?! _Why… yes, my lady! I'll have all the servants scrub the mansion! There will be a banquet the likes of which you have never seen…!"

"Then the two of you had better get to it."

Bodahn nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, my lady!"

Hawke rolled her eyes a little bit, but smiled nonetheless. She set the rose to rest on top of her dressing table and set about getting dressed.

….

"So, why _exactly_ are we waiting here?" Isabella rolled her eyes in boredom.

"Well, it seems that _you_ are here to deplete my wine stock…" Hawke answered with more than a little irritation. "Honestly, Isabella, can you not limit the amount you glug for one evening… or at least _half_ of an evening?"

"You promised me a handsome King, Hawke…" The Rivaini responded accusingly, "and I don't see one. It's your fault I've got to drown my sorrows. And there's not even a handsome elf to distract me today…"

"_Fenris _is with Varric collecting Merrill. And you were _early_."

"My Hawke, aren't _we_ a little fraught this evening?" The pirate gave a small, sly smile.

"Hawke has to entertain a King, in the company of an anti-social Tevinter fugitive, a dwarven conman, an insane Dalish apostate, an ex- Grey Warden abomination… and a drunken slut from the docks." Aveline stated bluntly. "I'd be nervous as well…" She cast a rather exasperated glace back to Donnic, who gave a nod of encouragement. "I must confess though, Hawke, your reluctance to share anything about this with _me_ before our little meeting has me a bit… on edge…"

"Why should _you_ get special treatment?" Isabella complained. The door creaked open, and the four of them turned expectantly. Hawke felt her heart jump, then sink as Anders stepped into the light. Isabella grunted in disappointment.

"Don't look too pleased to see me..." The mage told the sulking pirate.

"I don't think any offence is intended, Anders, I think she's just… frustrated…." Hawke offered.

"Have you run out of wine again?"

"Not _that_ sort of frustration…" The Rivaini huffed.

"Ummm, right. Can't help you there, I'm afraid."

"You could…. you just don't want to."

"You're right," the blonde smiled amicably, "I don't."

"You are _so_ mean."

"Is Rivaini pining for the Elf, again?" Varric followed Anders through the door with Merrill and Fenris in tow. Hawke felt her stomach lurch and a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. She began to examine her shoes closely, though she doubted she had hid her coyness from Aveline, who she was certain was watching her.

"You were escorting Merrill? You _could_ have dropped by for me, you know." Hawke heard Anders state accusingly. "I'm more likely to be arrested than her…"

"Hope springs eternal." Fenris muttered, as he came to a halt at Hawke's side. The blonde felt her heart pound.

She waited until the arguments had subsided and the chat had become more of a background mumble before she turned to the elf at her shoulder. "Fenris," her cheeks were warm, Maker, what _was_ she doing?

The man seemed surprised by her gentle tone and his eyes turned away from observing the other members of their group to look at her with that same fondness. "Hawke…"

"I just wanted to thank you… for the gift."

The white haired elf frowned a little, though his smile remained. "Gift? What gift?" He was teasing her.

"You know very well about the rose on my doorstep…" Hawke almost giggled, though she managed to keep her tone even.

Fenris' expression dropped from one of amusement, almost to one of anger. "A _rose_? Who has been giving you roses?" So he _wasn't_ teasing her…

"I thought you..?"

"_Why_ would I leave you a rose on your doorstep when I was _in your house_ last night?"

Hawke felt a little anger rise. Anger that she looked so foolish. Anger at Fenris' tone. And anger that she had been so cruelly deluded. "I don't know, maybe you could have thought it a romantic gesture?"

"So you need _flowers_ from me now?"

"I never said…"

"Well, you clearly need flowers from _somebody_, and it clearly isn't me…"

"You're being ridiculous…"

"Am I? Perhaps I should buy you a potted plant in apology?"

"Just forget it." Hawke all but snapped. "I'm sorry I mentioned it. I get it, you don't like flowers. You don't want to give any to me. Just drop it."

"Please, excuse my intrusion, Messere," Hawke twisted to look at Bodahn, who had clearly been trying to attract her attention for a few minutes, judging by his slightly pained expression. Although still the same dwarf she knew and loved, he seemed more of a herald now.

"Bodahn, what is it?"

"Your urgent attention is required in the kitchen, my lady."

Hawke didn't need to be told twice. She retreated without another word, though she noticed with some shame that everyone else had been watching their conversation with interest.

…

Aveline watched the two quarrel. She could have put money on this happening eventually, but, Maker! Did it _have_ to be tonight? Fenris, of course, knew that they had all witnessed their argument. After Hawke disappeared to the kitchens, he shot them all a filthy glare and muttered something about needing some air.

"Donnic," she gave her betrothed a nod, and he returned it with one of understanding. Aveline made her way after her retreated friend without saying anything, determined to get them through tonight.

"Should I come with you? I might be able to… help." Merrill interrupted her stride. As much as Aveline disliked admitting it, the doe-eyed elf could only have meant well, she held Hawke in such high regard. But still, she had a knack for saying the exact wrong thing at exactly the wrong time. Aveline turned to reply with gentle words but a voice she hated hearing cut her off.

"All the girls together then." The guardswoman swung to face Isabella, now suitably less bored and looking considerably more perky. "I don't think Hawke needs advice from an alcoholic strumpet." The red-head dismissed with more than a little venom in her tone.

Isabella shrugged and gave that smug smile that Aveline just wanted to punch. "Bedding people is one of my passions… I'm certainly more experienced than _you_ in these sorts of affairs."

"Hawke's having a problem _not_ bedding someone." Anders pointed out.

"Perhaps not, then." The dark-haired beauty admitted.

"Look, you all stay here." Aveline ordered firmly. "_Don't_ aggravate Fenris when he comes back," she directed at Isabella and Anders, "_Don't_ drink all the wine," that was just for the Rivaini, "and _don't_ try and get them to talk to each other during this meeting, we don't need any more disagreements when this eve is one of such import. Understood?"

One by one, the group nodded, Isabella with more reticence than Aveline would have liked. _Maker, help me, _she thought as she sighed, and she strode to the kitchens to see what she could salvage.

As Aveline pushed the door to enter, she could hardly see for the steam that permeated the room. What she _could_ make out was a rather dejected looking Hawke, and a rather apologetic looking elven girl in the midst of countless gigantic pots.

"Honestly, Orana," we're having a meeting, not opening a soup kitchen." Hawke scolded, gazing at the carnage around her. "There's enough cheap metal here we could open a low budget armoury."

"Maybe some free soup with their purchase?" Bodahn offered.

"But I've burned it all!" the girl wailed. "I only wanted to repay your kindness, Mistress, to do you proud before your new king… and soup is the only thing my Papa taught me to…"

"Calm down, Orana." Hawke sighed. "I'm not angry; I'm just a little… _surprised_ that seeing to some refreshments for an evening has resulted in not being to see you for crockery. We'll have to find somewhere to put it or Sandal will get lost in here forever…"

"Ahhhh, Messere, I wouldn't worry about that! My boy always has an enchantment ready to get himself out of trouble."

Hawke seemed thoughtful for a moment. "How would one 'enchant' a pot?"

"We could try it and see… My boy can enchant _anything_."

"An experiment for another time, perhaps… Orana, just see to some sweet meats on platters… and some cheeses. Please don't worry about the soup."

Orana nodded eagerly and set upon trying to reach the cellar door amidst the chaos.

"Now to the other matter, my lady."

"It's all work work work…" She smiled thinly at her friend.

"You're putting fires out day and night." The dwarf nodded.

Hawke grimaced, "Don't say something like that around Orana, alright? We don't want to tempt fate. Now tell me what I can do for you, Bodahn… just don't tell me that Isabella has finished all of the…" She took one look at his pursed lips and pained expression. "Of _course_, Isabella has finished all of the wine." She grumbled.

"There are one or two bottles left." Bodahn offered.

"Here's what I want you to do. Pass me one of those remaining bottles." He retrieved a bottle for her without question, uncorked it and handed it to her obediently. She took a large gulp before continuing. "Go to the Compte de Fru Fru's house…"

"You mean the Compte de Frifru?"

Hawke paused in thought, but shrugged it off,"… that's the one… and tell him that Serah Hawke will be more than happy to take his little job… in exchange for all the wine currently in his cellar, better take Sandal with you too... and perhaps a wheelbarrow… I hear he enjoys his tipples…"

"Of course, dear lady." Bodahn bowed his head, disappearing beneath the piles of metal and tin for a moment, before reappearing and making a swift entrance out of the servant's exit to find Sandal. Hawke took a few glugs from the bottle in her hand. "Oh, Aveline," she sighed with resignation, as if she had known the red-head was there the whole time, "what have I done to make the Maker hate me so?"

She offered the bottle to her friend, who made her way towards the blonde with difficulty. "Who knows," she took the bottle, "Maybe Petrice has been telling tales."

Hawke gave a small laugh and took back the bottle. "Maybe I should tell some about her to the Qunari, then?" She paused and looked back at the door to the main hall, "Are they _all_ laughing at me?"

"No." Aveline answered immediately.

"Not even a smirk from Isabella?" Hawke raised an eyebrow in question.

"I never said _that_." The Guard Captain watched on as the blonde gave a dry laugh, Hawke paused before smiling at her friend with a pained expression. "Just say it, Aveline."

"What _were_ you thinking, Hawke?"

"That the man I've been making doe-eyes at for three years or so had finally noticed and felt the same way?"

"But _why_ tell him tonight? You've had three years… and it's not like you're about to run out of time…"

"Well it's not every day Fenris calls me a 'rose'… so it doesn't seem beyond reason when I get a rose left on my doorstep the next morning that it's from him…"

"…someone left a rose on your doorstep…" Aveline's gaze didn't shift; in fact it remained with Hawke almost accusingly.

When the swordswoman caught sight of it however, she was none too impressed. "Honestly, Aveline, if you think I've been flirting my way around Kirkwall you clearly don't know me that well. There's a reason I was _convinced_ it couldn't be anyone but Fenris."

"Still, you've caught _someone's_ attention. It's reasonable for Fenris to assume your attentions have also been called elsewhere. Or maybe he was a little surprised that you've got those feelings for him, I mean, you two have been dancing around this for so long… perhaps he thought that it was something different? So if not Fenris, who?"

"If it's not Fenris, I'm not sure that I care." Hawke grunted before giving a wry chuckle. "Who would have thought, as we ran along the Wounded Coast killing bandits and setting beacons on fire, that you'd be better at this than me…"

"Perhaps you've just got a worse wing-man?"

Hawke smirked. "Perhaps. Has Fenris left?"

"I doubt it. He said something about stepping outside for air, but I don't think he'll have gone home, he owes you too much for that."

Hawke nodded, but looked thoughtful.

"I see that the red abomination has made a swift exit?" Aveline changed the subject hopefully. Rather than wearing her full set of armour or one of the dresses that Leandra seemed to love, Hawke had opted for a formal and fitted tunic accompanied by a rather loose pair of trousers.

Hawke tucked a lock of hair behind her ears and pulled herself from her thoughts. "It turns out I don't have many clothes besides armour and my smalls, and I thought wearing either would be a little inappropriate, so I dug out the clothes Tallis gave me."

"They suit you… just like a ball and chain would suit her…"

Hawke laughed, "Come on, enough reminiscing. I'm sure Alistair…" Aveline's eyebrow sprung up quizzically, "I mean, _King Alistair_… will be here soon."

Aveline sighed with resignation and a small laugh, as Hawke laid the now empty bottle to rest in the one free spot on the floor. "Maker, help us all."

The women smiled at each other and the Guard Captain gave her friend a nod of support. Weaving their way around the pots wasn't easy, and the wine seemed to have taken its toll on their balance. When they poured out of the kitchen and back into the hall laughing to one another, Hawke's heart stopped and she had never felt more sober as she heard a familiar voice. "Well, we didn't take off our clothes for _fun_; it was a trial of faith…"

"That's not what Zevran told _me_."

Hawke turned with dread to face the voices, and was greeted by the sight of a very _predatory_ Isabella, sitting far too close to the King of Ferelden for comfort. Varric seemed amused, Anders seemed bored, Fenris- disinterested… and Merrill didn't know where to look. If she were being honest, neither did she… Bless Andraste that Sebastian had been too busy to attend…

"Yes, well, the opinion I get of Zevran is he's quite happy to take off his clothes, trial of faith or no… anyway, why did you ask to hear the story of the quest for the Sacred Ashes when you obviously already know it?" Alistair queried, giving the Rivaini a wary look.

Isabella leaned even closer and grinned, "Maybe I just wanted to get to the part where _undressing_ is involved…"

Hawke felt her cheeks flare. _Oh. Dear. Maker. She's almost straddling him. _She looked to Aveline to garner her take on the situation; the Guard Captain's face looked like thunder.

"Errrrrr… right…" Alistair was more than uncomfortable, Hawke could tell. She forced a laugh into the conversation, and thanked Andraste when it succeeded in gaining everyone's attention, though she did notice Fenris look away as soon as he realised that it was her. She returned the favour and made a point of not looking at him. "Isabella," she smiled through gritted teeth, "you shouldn't tease the King of Ferelden like this…"

The pirate shot her an incredulous look, "Who says I was teas…"

Hawke looked back to Alistair, who seemed immensely grateful at her timely rescue, "Apologies, your Majesty," she cut the Rivaini off before she could continue; "my friend Isabella has a wicked sense of humour."

Alistair chuckled nervously, and cast Isabella a cautious look, "Nothing to apologise for, your friend and I have met before." Hawke noticed that his attention rather pointedly left Isabella and focused on her and his smile warmed considerably. "So, how about those maps, 'flower lady'?"

"…maps?" Anders and Aveline both queried, their voices filled with apprehension.

Hawke noticed Fenris' head tilt sharply at that, but she wasn't sure as to why. Hawke smiled, ignoring the glares she knew she was getting from most of her companions, "I'll get them now, but first, let's find you some refreshment…"

…


	4. Bonds and Breaks

As the night wore on, plans came together… and others fell apart. Fenris still refused to meet her gaze, let alone speak to her. Hawke ignored him, hoping that his mood would improve by the end of the evening… but she doubted it. Hawke sighed and turned her eyes back to the map that lay unfurled on the table. She had other things besides her failing love-life to think about.

Aveline shook her head, "This is ridiculous! The Blight has ended, the Archdemon is dead, yet you would risk members of _my_ guard running round the Deep Roads with all manner of creatures and demons on a fool's errand, Hawke?"

"I don't remember saying _that_, Aveline…"

"Well, that's what it sounded like." The Guard Captain stated as she crossed her arms angrily. "They're not Wardens, Hawke, they are citizens who give their lives to protect this city and you think just because _we're_ friends you can…"

"I appreciate your stance, Guard Captain," Alistair cut in, "but this _is_ a threat to your city and I must confess I think it is best if the City Guard do have a hand in this matter. If you cannot come yourself, I would appreciate having at least a representative to report back to you, so that Kirkwall may prepare itself in the worst case scenario."

Aveline still didn't seem happy, but her anger appeared soothed, "Very well, your Majesty. May I put forward a man named Donnic? He's a steady fighter and reliable…"

Alistair nodded with a warm smile, "if he has your faith, Captain, then he also has mine."

"Thank you, your Majesty." The blonde was sure she could see the beginnings of a smug smile of the red-head's lips. The last thing she needed was a glorified babysitter in lieu of her friend. That was an aggravation too far.

"_Aveline_…"

As if reading her mind, Aveline raised her eyebrows to Hawke as if to ask what the problem was. "_Hawke_." She acknowledged. Hawke returned her stare for a few seconds, then cursed beneath her breath and gave up. That was a fight she couldn't win and she knew it, not now that she had kingly approval.

"We can take the entrance here," Varric pointed to a location on the map, with a tone of authority, as if to change the subject, "my brother's men reported a cave-in after Bartrand tried to excavate the old thaig further, so that one's no good."

"You know when I went to Orzammar, all of the thaigs had names. I don't see any on these maps." Alistair mused, studying the complex tangle of tunnels and caves on the paper.

"Well, there's a strong sense of history in Orzammar, no one remembers when these thaigs were evacuated or even built… their names have been long forgotten, my dear King." Varric explained. "Honestly, I've never been to Orzammar and I can work _that_ out." He smirked at Hawke who returned his humour with a smile.

"And so what when we're down there?" Fenris asked curtly. "Are we exploring? Sitting there waiting for dark spawn…? What?"

Alistair was clearly taken aback about being spoken to in such a tone, but if it actually bothered him it wasn't apparent. "Well, you're to the point, aren't you?" He chuckled, "…If you're not careful I'll nickname you '_Morrigan_'." After he had finished musing on whatever he found so funny, the sandy haired man continued. "No…What _I_ propose is that we split into teams. Each team will take a couple of my own men and wait at different locations as outposts. Hawke and I will patrol the route and monitor the situation as a whole. Nothing happens? Fantastic, we can all go home. If something goes wrong and my hunch is right, we withdraw and the Guard Captain here is already on full alert ready to defend the city."

"I see… you and _Hawke_…" Hawke knew that tone, and she knew that Fenris wasn't happy. It wasn't often that she heard that tone and genuinely had no idea what was bothering him about Alistair's plan.

"Yes." Alistair seemed confused as well, and not without reason. The elf wasn't even trying to hide his displeasure, but neither was he offering any explanation as to why.

"And before you even _ask_, Isabella," Hawke pre-empted the pirate's request, "_we_ are picking the teams… and you don't have a say. The only one decided upon is Merrill and Anders."

Isabella slumped back in her chair looking severely unimpressed. Hawke was surprised that she was still awake- although it was just barely. The Rivaini had sunk enough alcohol to… well, sink a ship. Her words were slurred- when they could be interpreted as such- and her drunken leers towards Alistair and Fenris had become very toothy grins and awkward attempts at sitting on their knees. It was only when Aveline and Hawke had threatened to tie her to the chair that she had even _tried_ to behave appropriately.

Although he didn't say it, Hawke could tell by the sour expression on Anders face that he wasn't pleased. She gave him an imploring look, trying to tell him that she would explain, and he nodded; he still didn't seem happy in the slightest at the prospect of spending a few weeks… in the Deep Roads… with Merrill…

"Alright, so if we say we'll head off towards this entrance in the morning. Any more questions… um… yes?" The King seemed surprised when the dark haired, young elf shot her hand into the air enthusiastically.

"I do have _one_ question," Merrill began, and looked down and began twisting her tunic as if in embarrassment. Hawke smiled in spite of herself as she took a sip from her glass. She had seen the mage ramble… but she had _never_ seen her act so coyly, "is there a _Mrs_ 'King of Ferelden'?"

Hawke spat out the wine, "_Merrill!_"

Merrill looked back to her, "I'm only asking a _question_, Hawke, I'm not killing anyone…"

"I don't think that's a statement I will be able to say honestly by the end of tonight…" Hawke sighed despondently, tempted to bang her head on the table in frustration.

Alistair cleared his throat; Hawke noticed his cheeks had reddened slightly, it made him look much younger than the mighty 'Warden King' she had anticipated. "I have never taken a bride, no."

"Oh! Well, _that's_ interesting!" Merrill answered eagerly.

"No it's not," Aveline snapped sternly, "this is to plan a mission to save the city, not a meeting about who has bedded who. And this is the _King of Ferelden_, Merrill… a little more respect would be in order."

Hawke knew that Merrill wouldn't understand why she had received such a harsh reprimand from Aveline, but rather than antagonise the guardswoman further, Merrill fell silent. Hawke caught her attention and gave an encouraging smile which the elf barely acknowledged. It was late, everyone was tired and there was much to be done in the morning… "I think that's enough, if we're setting out early tomorrow we'll need to get some rest."

"An excellent idea, we'll meet tomorrow at the gates to the city." Alistair agreed. Everyone rose wearily to their feet, mumbling between themselves as to what perils the morning would bring with it. "Come on, Rivaini." Varric poked the pirate, "time to go."

"You _can't_ expect me to walk home in this state?" Isabella slurred in Hawke's direction. "What if some _scoundrel_ tries to take advantage of me?"

"I've never seen it work _that_ way round with you, Isabella." Hawke frowned a little, wondering what the woman was trying to get at.

"I need a big strong man to walk me home." She turned her gaze firstly to Alistair- who swiftly cast his eyes elsewhere- before they fell on Fenris.

The swordsman looked a little baffled, "You want _me_ to walk you from Hightown… where I _live_," he added with emphasis, "all the way down to Lowtown… where I _don't?" _

Although Isabella flirting with Fenris was nothing new, it bothered Hawke tonight in a way it hadn't before, perhaps because she'd never considered that he might take her up on her offer. "Don't be ridiculous, Isabella, Varric is heading back that way already, Fenris doesn't need to waste his time…"

"I can speak for myself, Hawke." The swordsman cut her off abruptly.

His words stung her, and his disparaging glare made her feel slightly sick. Not that she was about to let _him_ know that. "Then do what you want." Hawke was glad her voice didn't shake, "I don't really care what you do as long as you're not half dead for the fighting tomorrow."

To her immense shock, the elf's eyebrows raised slightly, as if her reaction had wounded him a little… as if he had not expected her clinical response. Hawke bit her lip; her immediate reaction was to apologise, and perhaps she _would_ have done if she knew what she had done to earn such wrath in the first place. Whatever desires she had to do so, however, faded as Fenris' expression returned to his lingering scowl.

Isabella struggled and swerved to her feet, Fenris didn't help her steady herself, but neither did he remain at the table. The Rivaini giggled at she gave, what Hawke could only presume was meant to be a wink, "I won't wear him out _too_ much, Hawke, don't worry."

Hawke fought hard to maintain her composure… and restrain herself from punching the pirate several times in the face. As Isabella somehow hobbled out of the door, now pulling the white haired man by his arm, Fenris looked back and caught Hawke's gaze. All she wanted to do was erase the evening's earlier events and have things back to the way they were. She hated the thought of him being angry with her, nearly as much as she despised the thought of him being with Isabella. But she had no right to tell Fenris what to do… and given the mood he was in he would probably appreciate it even _less_ than usual. The blonde didn't know what to think, let alone what to do.

So, she did nothing.

By the time he had faded into the night and the door had clicked to a close, Hawke already regretted such action.

The group slowly started to follow Fenris into the cool air of Hightown, and like him- they did it wordlessly. Whereas Merrill avoided catching her eyes with her own and just offered a sympathetic smile, Anders rested a hand on her shoulder in comfort. Hawke nodded to communicate that she was fine.

Aveline shot a look of sympathy on her way out, but it was not nearly as consoling as the one Donnic gave. Eventually, only Varric and Alistair remained in the hall.

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm missing out on some important 'group politics' here?" The young King asked with a twinge of sarcastic humour.

Varric only shook his head softly as he watched her rigid stance. "Hawke…"

She stood leant against the table, her arms folded around her as if it were armour, her eyes remained fixed on the door. Had that _really_ just happened? Fenris had left with Isabella… and _she_ _had __**let **__him?! _

Hawke shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. This would have to wait. He could have simply walked her home to appease her. It meant nothing until Hawke knew the whole story. 

"Your Majesty, your men will see you back to your lodgings?" Her voice sounded strange, even to herself. _Taut_… somehow…

Alistair hesitated; normally he would have made a joke or something. Maker knew he always relied on humour when he didn't know what to say… or was simply just uncomfortable. Yet something about the stiffness in her shoulders and the way she would look at neither of her guests made him bite his tongue. He didn't want to intrude on her seeming solitude, but neither did he want to leave her if there was something he could do. "I'm sure I could… um… stay a little longer if…"

She shook her head, and still did not look at him, "Just go… We all need our rest. Tomorrow, at the gates."

The Warden King struggled. It seemed that he so often said the wrong thing, yet now he would have given anything to say _anything_.

"At the gates." He agreed, he gave a Warden's salute in her direction and made his way towards the door.

"Varric," he heard her say to her remaining companion.

"Yes, my friend?"

"Would Bianca be _terribly_ angry if I borrowed you for a while?"

Alistair heard the dwarf chuckle, "I'll make it up to her, what relationships don't hinge on compromise, after all?"

…

Hawke took in the sight with mixed feelings of determination and apprehension. Although the last entrance she had taken to the Deep Roads had hardly been attractive, this dank and shadowed cave seemed downright ominous.

"Not the _best_ view I've had in the Free Marches." Alistair sighed.

"And what might that have been then?"

"Well… not to sound… _inappropriate_, but there are many beauties in Kirkwall…"

"I seem to recall there not being too few in Ferelden…"

"Yes, but in _Kirkwall_ they wear better dresses…" He grinned.

Hawke didn't know if he had meant the comment as an innocent one, but her cheeks flushed furiously. As if he had read her embarrassment and realised how the statement could be taken, he suddenly became a little panicked. "I didn't mean _you_… I mean, you look very _nice_ in a dress, but I didn't mean you have to wear one to be a nice view… I mean…"

Hawke's embarrassment faded into amusement, as she watched the tall man in glistening armour all but emasculate himself before her. So much so she found herself laughing. He stopped his rambling. "Is this the part where you punch me in the face and make me run round the camp in my smalls as a punishment?"

"Tempting."

"Tell me there's a 'but' coming."

Hawke laughed, "I think if I made you do that you'd never make it round the camp without Isabella trying to jump you or join in… and I don't need to see either outcomes."

"So you're not _that_ mad at me? I remember accidentally asking Leliana if she was a woman once and she threatened to turn me into an arrow cushion…"

"It's nothing offensive to be called a 'nice view', your Majesty. If you ever ask _me_ if _I'm_ a woman on the other hand…"

"You did it again…" Alistair said, in an almost teasing tone.

"Did what?"

"I _told_ you to call me 'Alistair'."

Hawke sighed with a smile. "I apologise, _Alistair._"

"Hawke!"

"Merril?"

The dark- haired mage made her way towards them excitedly, holding a box in one hand and tugging Anders along with her with the other. Since they had left Kirkwall, Merrill had held that box close as if it were some mystical object of power … and whenever _anyone_ has asked after the contents she simply smiled coyly and whispered '_It's a secret'. _

Merrill halted as she reached them, as did Anders. Hawke could tell he wasn't impressed, but he lacked Fenris' ability to hurt people's feelings and not care too much about it afterwards. "I'm ready to show you…"

"…what's in the box." Hawke finished for her. She eyed the parcel that her friend had carried with such care for so long with curiosity. "Well, don't keep us in suspense, Merrill…"

"Well, it isn't much really… I couldn't show anyone because it's a present for Anders and I wanted to wait till just before we went underground to give it to him."

If Anders looked more than surprised. "A present… for me…?"

"Well, I know you don't like the Deep Roads, so I thought I'd get you something to cheer you up a bit…"

Anders seemed genuinely touched. Hawke couldn't remember another single occasion when the ex-Warden had smiled at Merrill, at least genuinely. Slowly and gingerly, the Elf lifted the lid and the three of them peered in with interest. This interest changed swiftly to confusion and they shared glances with each other. Alistair was clearly absolutely baffled, Anders a little disgusted and Hawke… was it wrong that she wasn't overly surprised?

"Do you like it?" Merrill swung to Anders.

"Um…"

"It took me _days_ to catch this in the sewer. Jumpy little bugger too… sorry, I shouldn't swear in front of a king… but _Hawke_, you have no idea how difficult it was! They are _so_ fast. I thought maybe you could call him something like 'Lightning' or 'Quick Feet'…"

"Um… Merrill…" Hawke tried to interrupt.

"But I thought he could cheer you up when we're down there. I mean, he tries to bite _me_, but I'm sure he'll be nice to you…"

"Merrill…"

"And I know how much you miss, Ser Pounce-a-lot, so I thought why not…"

"Merrill!" Hawke finally succeeded in halting the mage's rambling speech.

Merrill looked at her with questioning wide-eyes. "Yes, Hawke?"

"Merrill… that's a _rat_…"

"Ser Pounce-a-lot was a _cat_, Merrill." Anders was still staring at the scabby, whiskered creature which twitched its nose in response.

"Don't be silly! I know what a 'rat' looks like… they have _fur_ for starters…"

"So do _cats_…"

Merrill hesitated and studied Hawke's face, as if trying to decipher if this was a joke or not. "That one on Sundermount didn't…"

"You used a powerful fire spell on the tree it was sitting in…" Anders pointed out, "of _course_ it had no blighted fur left!"

"I'm fairly new to Kirkwall, but I wouldn't have thought that there are _many_ cats to catch in the sewers…" Alistair offered.

"I _did_ think it lucky to find so many in one place… Oh, well," Merrill's eyes fell and her gaze was fixedly set at the poor animal in the box. "I'm sorry, Anders,I suppose you'll have to be pet-less in the Deep Roads again." She sighed heavily and turned away from them. "I suppose I should let him go, then… if I've got things wrong again…"

Hawke caught Anders gaze and tilted her head, indicating him to go after Merrill. He shook his head and waved both hands to tell her that there was no way, incredulous that she would suggest such a thing. Hawke poked him in the shoulder with some force and with the same hand pointed after the Elf. He stood strong and met her stare.

Hawke decided it time for a different tactic. Her narrowed eyes widened and she stuck out her bottom lip, she hoped that she seemed imploring. It wasn't a look she often went for. Anders grunted and rolled his eyes, "Merrill, wait!" It would have been difficult for him to sound less enthused, "perhaps a… rat… will prove a worthy beast after all…"

Merrill squealed, and ran back to them. She caught the creature gently around its stomach and lifted it to Anders face, the box now discarded. "Lightning, I want you to meet _Anders,_ he's your new owner…"

Anders was still, very clearly, _very_ un-amused. "Lightning? You've decided its name is 'Lightning?"

Merrill's eyes widened and she seemed crestfallen. "Do you not like it? I mean, he _is_ very fast… but he _is_ yours… " Anders looked back to Hawke for help. The blonde crossed her arms and frowned a little, it didn't quite mask her mirth at the scene playing out before her.

Anders gritted his teeth. "Lightning sounds like a lovely name…" He was sure he heard Hawke and the King snicker behind him. No matter, he would get her back later…

"Hawke! Scouts have returned, the path is clear." Fires were put out and equipment scraped into bags. The groups started to gather as Varric approached the swordwoman.

Hawke nodded and turned to Alistair, "make sure everyone is ready, I'd prefer to make the initial push whilst the sun is still up… everyone remember: mages at the back, swords at the front."

"Let's just hope nothing goes wrong." Varric grumbled as the soldiers scattered, though loudly enough for those listening to hear.

"Hmmmm, yes." Alistair added thoughtfully, "the Deep Roads _really_ isn't the place for mistakes."

Hawke caught sight of Fenris on the edge of the camp, helping a young soldier load a supply bag onto his back. Although she couldn't say he had warmed to her since last night, he seemed evasive now rather than angry. Not that that made it any easier to talk to him. He saw her looking and dropped his gaze as quickly as she did hers. Hawke turned away from him and back to Alistair and Varric. "Then let's not make any." She told them.


	5. In Too Deep

"How far till the crossroads, Varric?" Hawke queried, squinting into the blackness ahead of them.

"We should be about half way there," the dwarf replied.

"Only _half way?!_" The blonde asked incredulously. She sighed as she looked into the darkness once more. The passage seemed to twist forever into the endless black. Hawke was sure it had been just as dark the last time she had braved the Deep Roads, but she couldn't recall feeling such apprehension as she did now. She had always relied on her instincts, and every single one told her to get everyone out of that tunnel and back to the surface as quickly as possible.

But that was not an option. They needed to know if there was any chance of a darkspawn surge to the world above, and she wasn't about to leave without an answer. So she moved on, and the party followed her.

The path became more and more difficult to negotiate. It became damper and steeper, and even darker than it had been if such a thing were possible. The first few times someone stumbled, Hawke's heart leapt into her mouth- the last thing they needed was to have casualties before any fighting had even happened. She was relieved each time Anders held the light from his staff closer to the wounds and they had earned nothing but more than a few deep cuts and bruises, easily fixable with Anders skill. This, however, was taking an undeniable toll on the mage; the shadows lengthened as Anders' power waned. After a while, Alistair had taken a team ahead with torches to check the path to minimise the amount of injuries the medic would have to see to.

"I'll take over the lighting for a while, Anders."

Hawke turned to see Merrill seemingly breathe life and light into her staff. Unlike Anders' pale blue flame, the magic that danced from Merrill was a golden green, like a meadow basking under the warm sun.

Now fully illuminated, Anders looked worn. The magic that he had been maintaining crackled and vanished. His shoulders drooped and he slumped to the ground in exhaustion.

"Anders!" Hawke jumped up to him, praying that she wouldn't slip. Varric supported the healer as she reached him, she knelt by his side and he gripped her shoulder for some balance.

"What's wrong?" She heard Alistair shout from further in the tunnel.

Hawke cursed beneath her breath. "Have you found anything yet?" She asked.

"If we had, you'd be the first to know. And you don't know, so no, we haven't."

It was a flippant comment, probably aimed at being humorous. But if there was a funny side, Hawke didn't see it. "We have a man down, so just hurry it up!"

"…Understood."

…..

"I knew I should have gone with the men…" Isabella grumbled as she sharpened one of her knives with a glistening stone.

"What for? It's not like you can bat your eyelashes at one of them and jump into a crevasse for a quickie." Anders stated. Although he had mostly recovered, his mana was still at a dangerously low level. Maker knew what might happen if he was forced to cast another spell before it had recovered. "Besides, Hawke wants us all together, we know how to fight as a team and that's something we need to rely on."

"She let Fenris go…" The Rivaini huffed.

"Fenris isn't trying to sleep with everyone."

"After his behaviour last night, I should think he'd be lucky to sleep with _anyone_…"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Oh… nothing…" The pirate dropped her gaze to the knife in her hand once more. Isabella ran the stone along the blade with more aggression than she had done a few minutes before. For a few minutes, the only sound in the narrow tunnel was the scraping of steel.

"Hawke says you need to use water to sharpen a blade." Merrill intruded into the awkward quiet.

"Do you _see_ any water, Kitten?" Isabella didn't look up.

"Well, no…" The elf sighed despondently.

"Well then…"

The grating became heavier and quicker. "… And I don't see why I couldn't go with Hawke!"

"Neither do I… I mean, you and Hawke are best friends after all…"

"If you're making a point, I'd get to it." The Rivaini's eyes narrowed in Anders direction.

"You can't tell me you think she's happy about last night?"

Isabella looked back to her knife. "It's only rutting, it's not like I asked him to captain my ship forever… and it's not like we even set sail…"

"… that's one way to phrase it." Anders seemed lost for words. "Well, you should probably tell Hawke that."

"What girl wants to hear their sweetheart is a complete and utter _bore_?"

"Point."

Isabella sighed again and lifted a hipflask from one of the knife sheaths on her thigh. She pulled the top off with her teeth and took a deep gulp. "Well, I won't be able to tell Hawke anything if she doesn't get back here in one piece."

….

Hawke had a bad feeling, and the farther she climbed into the belly of the Deep Roads, the worse it became. She had held her hand to the sword hilt at her neck for so long that her arm ached.

"You're _sure_ you heard something?" Varric mumbled next to her, Bianca primed and ready for action.

"I didn't _hear_ it, Varric, but I felt something… something was coming up this tunnel... and I don't think it's the search party coming home." The swordswoman added grimly.

"Hey, Hawke… isn't there a saying… strength in numbers?"

"Anders is too weak, and if Merrill runs out of magic too then we're out of light…"

"I see… so we left Rivaini behind out of spite or…?" Her glare was enough to silence him.

"Anders and Merrill need protection, Isabella is there in case anything happens."

"You could have brought her instead of me…"

"Fine, Varric. I'm angry with her. But you already knew that... or were you not listening last night?"

"All I'm saying is by the time I'd gotten back to The Hanged Man, Isabella was passed out on the bar and your Prince Charming was nowhere to be seen..."

In spite of the conversation, they kept their voices as whispers and made their way steadily down the tunnel.

Hawke shook her head. "I'm not interested right now, Varric. We've got bigger things to worry about than the prospect of Fenris and Isabella going at it."

"I've not! Maker, think of the children…! I can just imagine a horde of white haired, broody midgets swigging rum in the street and pickpocketing old women."

"Varric…"

"Besides, Hawke, it's not as if the Master of Brood is the only prospect that you have…"

"Maker help me, Varric- if you _dare_ bring up…"

"Our dear King of Ferelden… you're not telling me you haven't noticed those big brown puppy dog eyes."

Hawke was glad for the darkness, it hid her flushed cheeks wonderfully. "I have not noticed _any_ 'big brown puppy dog eyes'…"

"Really, because they're on you quite a bit…"

Hawke sighed irately. "Varric. Would you just shut…"

She didn't see the bolt of light until it was too late. It struck her square in the chest and threw her against the wall. Hawke collapsed to the ground, her head swimming and her body throbbing.

"Hawke!" She could feel Varric pulling at her arm. She tried to respond, but words refused to form. "HELP!" The dwarf released her from his grip and she sensed Bianca returning to his grip. "Alright then, come on, you bastards!"

What? How many were there? What were they? Shit. She _knew_ she'd felt something coming. She should have been more focused on the task, and not distracted by such fickle talk. Hawke sucked in a breath as her head cleared slightly, it was not the first time she had been struck by such a spell… but Maker, she didn't remember it hurting so much!

Aware of the sounds of Bianca firing bolt after bolt and the shuffling of feet around them, Hawke dragged the sword from the scabbard at her back struggled to her feet. Everything around her was a blur, but she could still make out shapes and movement.

"Hawke! Are you alright? Talk to me!" Varric was beside her, but her words still would not come.

Instead she decided to respond by swinging for the figure moving towards her. Her blade connected with what she presumed to be the torso; with a twist and a drag she forced the steel out of the figure and it lay before her on the floor. Still.

"HELP!" She heard Varric cry again.

Hawke would have called too, but still she could not find her voice.

So she just kept swinging.

…..

"Is it heavy?"

"What?" Fenris was pulled from his thoughts to see the soldier he had helped with his supply pack earlier. The young man pointed to the massive broad sword at his back. The elf wasn't old, but he certainly had more years than this boy, if by experience alone. "I suppose. Though I cannot say that I notice anymore."

The pale youth chuckled to himself. "You don't see many wielding a blade such as that; I've only ever seen two men before you… and that girl…"

"Hawke?"

"That's the one. You know the men here say she's prettier than Anora."

"…I don't know who that is…"

"It's…"

"I don't _care_, either."

"Oh," the soldier seemed a little put out. He made his excuses and trotted at a faster pace to near the front of the line.

"It's not _his_ fault, Fenris."

"I don't recall saying anything was…"

Donnic gave a sigh of resignation. "You could just _talk_ to Hawke, you know."

"Change the subject."

Donnic shut up. Not because he thought that Fenris meant his angry words, but because he didn't know what to say. He suspected that the elf was still annoyed at himself for how he had behaved the night before, and hurt by Hawke's seeming indifference to it.

"Donnic and Fenris, isn't it?" Donnic felt the elf tense at the sound of the pleasant voice. Although Alistair was a King, he didn't seem to hold himself like one. He had approached them as equals rather than sending someone to call them over. Donnic liked that. It was something he loved about the way Aveline commanded the guards.

"That's right." The guardsman smiled when Fenris failed to reply with anything short of a glare.

"Good, yes… right…" Donnic felt his cheeks flush when he noticed Fenris had raised an eyebrow in impatience, he turned his eyes back to Alistair as he continued, "We've found the crossroads. My men can't see any dark spawn at this point, they're going to set up camp here, and I suggest we go back for the others. Hopefully your friend will be recovered by now. But we must be careful; my men have reported warrens along the way… recently built ones in fact. It's possible that something was hiding from us and we didn't see it."

"Why would it hide from us?" Donnic queried.

"We were large in number, it's possible that something is waiting for us to break down into smaller units…"

"An ambush." Fenris finished for him.

"Exactly." The Warden King nodded. "Five of us should be enough, I'll just instruct my men…" Alistair seemed baffled when Fenris held a hand up to his face as if to shush him. Donnic seemed horrified.

The swordsman's head was cocked slightly, as if listening. The call echoed down the tunnel. It was difficult to make out, and although it didn't become any louder, the echo became more frequent. It took a few moments for Donnic to decipher Varric's voice and the word he kept repeating.

_Help_.

Fenris and Aistair were already running, Donnic turned to the men- twenty sturdy soldiers… "Four of you, on me _now_!"

As Fenris ran he could think of only one thing, and that thought made him run even faster.

….

Maker, she hated mages. Not the ones who were on her side of course, but every other damn mage who ever would or had cast a spell on her was in her black book as of this moment.

Hawke couldn't see the blighted thing enough to get within range, and it must have cast a dozen spells at her by now. Her body was wracked with pain, and she was sure the liquid that dripped down her face was blood.

She couldn't hear Bianca fire and Varric's cries for aid had ended a few moments ago. She tried to call to him, but her voice still wouldn't work. She prayed that he was alright; she would get them out of this.

Hawke kept her eyes peeled and her sword ready. It's true that her vision was blurred, and her voice taken… it was entirely possible they had been taken from her to reduce her accuracy and disarm her chants. But she was no mage. She just needed to hit the damn thing hard enough to make it fall, and she had never been one for battle cries anyway…

A flicker of light drew her attention. Hawke surged forward, sword drawn, ready to take blood. She was more than surprised when the slippery bastard didn't even move to dodge. Her sword connected with her target only to bounce… Hawke squinted as she retreated. It was a pillar. A stone pillar. And a soft, deep laugh behind her.

A vice like grip wrapped around her body, forcing out all air.

Then she was falling, she hit a cold stone wall, and she fell again.

This time she did not stand up.


	6. Something Worth Fighting For

Merrill hadn't waited for Isabella to help Anders to his feet, or for the soldiers to gather their equipment. She ran down the tunnel with a speed that surprised even herself. The floor was slippery, but the elf had traversed more dangerous roads than this one, and two of the people she cared for most in the world were in danger. The thought of something happening to them was more than Merrill could bear. She ignored Isabella's shout for her to stop and ran faster. She didn't know how much she could do once she was there, she didn't have much mana left. But she had to try.

The mage came to a widening in the passage; although the path was clear, Merrill was sure she could make out the shadows of smaller entrances. But she didn't have time to investigate. On the floor at her feet lay Varric, unconscious but his breathing was steady, and further down the passage in a crumpled heap was Hawke and a dark figure looming over her. Darkspawn. She could hear more of them around her. Scuffling. Were they behind the walls? Above? She couldn't tell. Merrill was frightened.

She had only seen a few since she had come to the Free Marches, and only stragglers. Hawke always left Merrill behind if she suspected that there would be darkspawn, because of her fears over what happened to Tamlen, had he become one of those monsters? Hawke knew that seeing the creatures stung the elf and made her fear the worst for her lost friend. So Hawke shielded her.

Because Hawke didn't want her to be sad… or get hurt.

Hawke always protected her.

Merrill summoned her magic; it filled her and danced around her. She felt ten feet tall and warm. Safe.

Her gaze locked on the fallen figure of the swordswoman. She focused and reached towards Hawke with the spell.

Merrill didn't know if it had worked; Hawke remained still on the ground. What Merrill _did_ know was that she was surrounded by dark spawn with the last of her magic spent. The light from her staff waned. She felt empty. She felt weak. Alone.

The shuffling to her left suddenly became much louder, and a monstrous face burst from the darkness and into view. Merrill shrieked and fell backwards.

The dark spawn gave a low laugh as it descended on her.

Merrill looked to Hawke, praying that her spell had worked. That Hawke would save her. The blonde was still.

Merrill closed her eyes and waited for the blow.

She could hear steel being drawn. Swift footsteps. A thud in front of her.

"I _told_ you to wait, kitten…"

…..

Fenris ran as quickly as he could, yet his thoughts raced even faster.

Horrific images flashed through his mind. What if she was hurt? What if she was dead? No, she couldn't be. This was Hawke. Forever witty, forever alert. Always the last standing after a battle. And it's not like she was alone. He had left her with Varric, Isabella, the two mages… not to mention a number of Alistair's soldiers.

Yet this knowledge did not ease his anxiety. He needed to get to her. To see her. To know that she was safe.

The path curved and the sight that greeted Fenris made his blood run cold.

Just a few feet away lay Hawke, being dragged by her arm into a darkened warren. It was touching _his_ Hawke, it was trying to take her from him.

Rage was all that Fenris knew. He closed the space between them in a matter of seconds and sliced at the creature's throat. Blood sprayed as the darkspawn fell to the floor. As it lay dying, gurgles burst from its throat.

It wasn't enough.

Fenris drove his blade through the monster's face. Once it had stopped twitching, he pulled the sword free and turned as more creatures emerged from the warrens. Alistair was beside him, poised for battle. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Isabella and Anders with the men. The pirate was fussing over Merrill, seemingly trying to point her away from the battle. The soldiers were contending with a number of darkspawn.

That wasn't important to Fenris. Hawke was.

The elf lunged. He would protect her, whatever the cost.

Fenris wasn't sure how many of the beasts he hacked to the floor, the flurry of steel and flow of blood seemed to blend into the longest moment Fenris had ever known. More than anything he wanted to hold Hawke in his arms, and ease her pain. To know that she was alright. That thought drove him.

The darkspawn numbers had been greatly lessened. As if realising that the battle was lost, the few remaining turned heel and ran- disappearing into the shadowed rocks.

"Fenris!" The elf sensed movement behind him, and a crackling blue light burst. Fenris was flung across the tunnel.

Gasping for air, he forced himself up. He wouldn't die here. Not until he knew she was safe. He _refused_.

The emissary was now weaving a red spell, its eyes locked on him. Fenris could see Alistair trying to get into range to engage the creature… but he wasn't about to watch a man- his rival for Hawke, no less- fight his battles for him. He charged. The magic deepened in colour. It was too late…

The head flew from the darkspawn's shoulders. Fenris stopped in shock, as did Alistair. The beheaded figure falling to the floor revealed Hawke behind it. Covered in blood and looking more than a little peeved.

"_Maker_, I hate mages… apart from you two…" she added as an afterthought to Anders and Merrill, "…and Bethany… and any others that don't try to kill me…"

Anders gave a relieved smile, which faded as Hawke fell to her knees.

Every body part she had ached and throbbed. She felt nauseous and disorientated. Hawke had shocked herself with how quickly she had surged to action to kill the casting darkspawn… but when she saw Fenris get hurt, adrenaline had kicked in. Action hadn't been optional.

Hawke sensed someone kneel before her and two hands rested on her shoulders.

_Fenris? _

Hawke felt relief wash through her. He wasn't angry anymore?

"Are you alright?" A voice asked softly.

_Not Fenris. _

The breath stuck in Hawke's throat. She raised her head to stare into Alistair's wide brown eyes. Hawke tried to mask the hurt… Fenris really _was_ pulling away from her.

She had lost him to a stupid rose… if she had ever really had him at all.

"Well, I'm not dead."

"Well, yeeeees… I can see that."

Hawke's memory of the fight returned and suddenly her self-pity became panic. "Varric?! Is he…?"

"Varric's fine." Anders soothed, kneeling beside Hawke. Alistair backed away a little, though he remained close. "Let's just see to your injuries. Looks like they've done quite a number on you…"

Hawke snorted. "Well there were 'quite a number' _of_ them. Wasn't the idea of you taking half the men to scout ahead for you to _notice_ the very large party of encroaching darkspawn?"

"I don't know how we missed this." Alistair admitted, gazing at their surroundings. "The only reason I can thi…"

"_Excuse_." Hawke corrected.

"Fine, the only _excuse_ I can think of is all our lights were flame… sort of _creates_ a lot of shadows…"

Hawke looked at him for a moment. "That's _pitiful_."

"It _could_ have happened…" Alistair replied defensively.

"But it didn't…. you just weren't looking…"

"Well, there's a reason we split into two _groups_. It's not _my_ fault that _you_ ran off on your own…"

"I wasn't on my own… Varric was with me."

"So the way _I_ see it, is actually that we saved your life." Alistair was now wearing a small smile, and his tone was very definitely aimed at teasing.

"You wouldn't have _needed_ to save my life if you'd checked the tunnels properly." Hawke felt her cheeks burn. She honestly couldn't recall ever needing assistance in a fight, let alone someone having to come to her rescue. It was certainly something new for her… and it wasn't an experience she wanted to repeat.

Alistair chuckled at her embarrassment, and Anders was barely managing to mask his smirk. "Perhaps you should come along with me next time… it seems that taking my eyes off you even for a second is… unhealthy… for you…"

Across the room, Fenris watched Hawke's cheeks redden as Anders and Alistair poked fun at her. Isabella was still berating Merrill for running away behind him, and the soldiers were mumbling amongst themselves.

"You confuse me Elf, do you think Hawke's going to notice those big, doting eyes from all the way over here?"

Fenris looked down the beardless dwarf. "You're awake. How are you feeling?" Although his concern was genuine, he could see for himself that Varric was not too worse for wear.

Varric chuckled, "I'll fight another day… and then another… and another… anyway, don't change the subject."

Fenris grunted. When Hawke had fallen, his heart had stopped. His strength had failed. Although he had regained his composure and moved to her, Alistair had been closer and reacted far more swiftly. The elf had watched the concern cross the human's face, the genuine fear for her well-being. Hawke could not have seen it, still hunched over on the ground, but Fenris was certain he had seen a gentle tenderness in the way he looked at her.

His first instinct was to step back. Alistair was a king. And a kind, caring and handsome king at that. Next to that an escaped slave – complete with glow-in-the-dark lyrium branding – was no real competition. Better to let her go, let her have the life of luxury that she deserved.

Yet there was something about Alistair that Fenris could just not embrace. Something just a little too smug about his glib remarks, too _arrogant_ in the way he just assumed that he should be there for Hawke, like she _needed_ somebody to _look after_ her.

He felt bile rise in his throat as he watched the two of them together. The Hawke he knew needed nobody's help. She was strong, and fiercely independent. She could cut a man down in cold blood, then turn right around and crack a joke. She was sarcastic and witty and she'd seemingly dedicated her life to helping people in trouble. No, Hawke didn't need some rich king to give her everything her heart desired; she needed somebody to _understand_ her.

And Fenris needed _her_.

Suddenly, a hand waved across his vision. "Hello? You there, Elf?" Startled, Fenris looked down to see Varric jumping up and down, the crossbow on his back rattling with the motion. "I was just thinking."

"Word of advice; don't think, just do." The dwarf grinned up at Fenris who frowned a little in question. "Hawke may be pretty shrewd about most things, but when it comes to what you people pass off as… '_adult relationships_'… she's as smart as your average nug."

"I think you're selling Hawke a little short…"

"She has a thing for _you_."

"Point taken."

Glancing back to Hawke, Fenris' expression hardened into its traditional scowl as he saw Alistair help her back to her feet. He glanced around the dark, suddenly claustrophobic stone tunnel. "I need some air…."

"Well good luck finding some down here, you'd be better using that supply of 'brood' you keep on tap…"

….

It took a while and a few lyrium potions for Anders to fully heal the three. Varric's head wound was quite straight forward, the damage to Fenris' chest from the spell a little more complicated… but Hawke had taken some time. Anders thanked the Maker for Merrill's quick thinking in casting the magical barrier over her. Things could have been far worse. Hawke could have died, or been dragged away; at the darkspawns' mercy. The thought was too painful for Anders to contemplate.

Not that Hawke admitted that, of course. She had them right where she wanted them... apparently…

Of course, the blonde mage had laughed at her red-faced objections. This was the Hawke that he knew and loved. The thought of losing her to carelessness was unbearable.

While he re-set her broken bones and chastised her for her recklessness, Hawke had finally had the opportunity to explain his partnership with Merrill. He needed to be equidistant from all groups in the event of injury to the troops, and he needed someone able to deal significant damage from a distance in case they were attacked.

The blonde also admitted that she wanted Merrill out of the darkspawns' path. She knew of the dark thoughts and regrets that haunted the elf each time she saw their monstrous forms, and she didn't want to add to that pain more than she had to.

Anders could understand it. As much as Merrill's stupidity and naivety infuriated him, he didn't wish her harm. He thought that Hawke was too soft on her, if he was truthful, but perhaps that was what she needed to bring her back to reason and sense.

"We'll announce the teams now…" He heard Alistair declare. "I've split all Redcliffe knights into different groups."

His thoughts returned. They had made their way to the crossroads after Hawke's recovery, but still she needed more rest. Not that she had listened, of course. After she had bashed the dents out of her armour with her sword hilt, she had put it straight back on.

"Merril and Anders," Hawke stated.

She didn't sound overly enthused. It was business as usual. The mage had wanted to punch Fenris for a while. He had noticed the way Hawke looked at him, and the way he looked at Hawke.

As much as Anders disapproved, he could not deny Hawke's feelings.

He hated himself for admitting it, but he would rather see her with the Warden King. Someone who would protect her. Someone worthy of her.

"Fenris and Varric. Donnic and Isabella."

Hawke hesitated when she said that. She recalled Aveline's words.

_"If that slut lays a hand on Donnic, I will fucking kill you, Hawke."_

Hawke sighed. If the Deep Roads didn't kill her, Aveline would…

…

With everyone dispensed, Alistair finally gave a massive groan of relief. The day had been arduous, but they needed to be alert and in place as soon as possible. There was no telling where the darkspawn would strike or when, but being ready was vital.

Alistair looked to his companion, the blonde was slumped against the wall and running her hand through her hair. He had no doubt that she was tired. The two mages were tending to the fire just across from him, not that he could bring himself to look at them.

Thoughts of how he had supported her earlier made him blush. The way he had run to her as she fell had been mostly impulse. Of course, he had been concerned over other companions before, but he could not ever remember his blood running as cold as it had earlier.

"Can I sleep now… for a little while?"

Alistair smirked and looked back to her, her features were drawn. She looked so tired that Alistair fought the urge to go to her. He knew it was ridiculous. They had only just met.

"If you must."

She stared at him for a minute through tired eyes. "I _did_ just nearly _die_."

"Your own fault."

"… can I sleep or not..?"

"Do you need someone to hold your hand?"

Hawke scowled, although Alistair noticed a slight curve on her lips. "That depends… do you intend to keep your eyes open for a few hours... and actually pay _attention_?"

Alistair chuckled. "You're not the easiest woman to appease."

"I should hope not."

….


	7. Riddles in the Dark

Sorry! I got carried away with this one and it became a bit of a beast.

Thank you to everyone who's been following this story... it's really encouraging for my first fic!

...

Although she felt much better when she woke, Hawke was still thoroughly unnerved. She had always been the one to save another; how weak must she seem in front of those who looked up to her? What right did she have to lead the rag-tag group? She was meant to look after _them_, and instead of doing that she had put Merrill and Varric in a potentially lethal situation. Because of her, Fenris had been hurt. Anders had been forced to waste vital lyrium potions on _her_. All because she had left Isabella behind. Had the Rivaini been there, she and Varric wouldn't have been talking. They would have paid more attention. She had put her personal feelings above the safety of those she led.

Of course, Hawke knew realistically that this wasn't the case. Varric had a sharp eye for traps and potential ambushes- much sharper than the pirate thief's. If he hadn't noticed anything it was _very_ unlikely that they could have pre-empted the attack. And if she hadn't left Isabella with the mages, it was quite likely that she would have not been in a position to save Merrill. Or instruct Alistair's men to action.

Hawke _knew_ these things, yet still she couldn't push the feeling of guilt from her mind… nor the images of Fenris being thrown across the room. He had not come to her after battle as he normally would. He had let himself be replaced by Alistair. Hawke wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but it hurt. Far more than she could have imagined.

She had cradled the hope that Varric was right, that Fenris hadn't been… _intimate…_ with Isabella… that they would get over this stupid argument and reconcile. But that seemed redundant now.

"Are you alright? You seem… quieter… than usual." Alistair observed. Hawke looked back to the Warden. They had set out for the deepest thaig on their map quite a while ago, but she realised she hadn't spoken once. Still, the thoughts that troubled her were not ones she wished to share with someone she barely knew. So she did the only thing she could think of… evade the conversation at all costs.

"Really? How so?"

"You're not talking."

Hawke rolled her eyes in his direction but couldn't stop the involuntary chuckle. "You have a talent for 'stating the obvious'…"

"And you have a talent for 'avoiding the subject'… which incidentally is something we have in common. There's something on your mind; tell me."

"I can't _imagine_ what you're talking about." Hawke replied in a serious tone, warning him to drop this line of enquiry.

"Oh, _pleeeaaaaase_? We can have a heart to heart! Be best buddies. And when we get to the first camp we can play pranks on them when they sleep! I'm thinking charcoal moustaches…" He grinned mischievously.

Hawke gave him a tight smile, wondering how he could be so glib given what had happened with the darkspawn. It was as if he wasn't concerned at all. "Your men took damage alongside mine, and yet still you crack jokes?"

"No one died. That's what's important, right? Besides, what am I here for if not to provide witty banter and hilarious interludes?"

"Kill darkspawn? Protect your men?"

"Well, yes, and that…" Alistair watched her turn away and frowned slightly. "There _is_ something wrong, _isn't_ there?"

Hawke sighed. "People could have died today." She hoped if she gave him just a little, that it would be enough. That Alistair would stop poking.

"There is always chance of death in battle; no one walks into a fight without accepting that. You were at Ostagar, you should understand that better than anyone…"

"That's different."

The look of utter confusion on Alistair's face was priceless, but rather than amuse Hawke, it just frustrated her. Maker! She was going to have to explain it to him, wasn't she? Either that or be bombarded by questions until they parted ways…

"You know, I'm not _actually_ seeing what the problem is."

Hawke sighed heavily. "I got it wrong today. People got hurt because of me. If you, Fenris and Donnic hadn't got there when you did…"

The bafflement in Alistair's expression only intensified. "So let me get this straight… you're upset because you're blaming yourself for succumbing to a number of darkspawn so large, that it took almost every fighter we have to push them back?"

"Varric and Fenris were injured…"

"You fought to defend Varric. For all you know he would be _dead_ if you hadn't found that strength within you to stand and fight. And Fenris… well, I'm not going to lie; the way he went mental on that genlock that was dragging you away reminded me of a mabari at lunchtime…"

Hawke seemed to take pause, "what?"

"Oh, nothing. What I'm _trying_ to say is that in spite of being completely outnumbered, you didn't show an ounce of weakness, you didn't give quarter and you _didn't_ get it wrong. You put yourself in harm's way to protect those you lead… I see that as a sign of a courageous woman and ally. Someone to look up to. Not someone who should be beating themselves up about something that _could_ have, but _didn't_ happen…"

Hawke found herself smiling… comforted. "Thank you, Alistair."

"Not a problem." The sandy haired King smiled with a slight cock of his head, "I _do_ know what it's like to fall in battle, you know. To feel so frustrated at your own helplessness, to know you can't defend those who would give their lives defending you… Wynne had to magic me up so many times I felt like her little Warden puppet on occasion…"

Hawke smirked, "Her _little Warden puppet_?"

"Yes… the amount of times she made me dance for her amusement."

"… I _do_ hope you're not going to suggest…"

"Ahhh, yes… all those stripteases…"

Hawke could not mask her usual smirk. "_Maker_! I wished I hadn't asked."

"I'm rather glad that you did. Now I've got _one_ of my 'little secrets' out of the way. So how about you?"

"Well, there was that _one_ time when Varric and I got _really_ drunk in The Hanged Man…"

"… I meant a secret."

"Oh, I've got _lots_ of those."

"Care to share…?" He waggled his eyebrows in a comedic manner.

"Nope."

"That is _so_ cruel… it's tit for tat, you know…"

"You don't _actually_ expect me to believe that you were forced to do stripteases for a mage?"

"A really _old_ mage. With _wrinkles_."

Hawke was laughing now, in spite of herself. It was surprising that she could, when just a few minutes ago she had wished for a hole to open up and swallow her. "Wrinkles, eh? Guess I'm safe then…"

"Now you're trying to second guess me… it's not _just _wrinkles…"

…

"I think you already know the answer," Isabella chuckled.

Donnic sighed to himself, glancing at the pirate keeping stride with him. _Why_ had he ever agreed to this stupid riddle game in the first place? He should have known it would descend into cheap innuendo and thinly veiled references to 'raising the mast' and 'firing the canon' as soon as he remembered who he was playing with. _Dealing_ with. _Dammit_.

"I give up…"

"You surrender?" She placed a hand on his shoulder and he stopped in his tracks. "Good. To the victor go the spoils," she continued, closing the gap between them with a sway of her hips.

Irritated, Donnic brushed her hand aside and continued down the passageway. By the Maker, the woman was persistent. Ironically, if this had happened a few months ago he'd probably have jumped at the chance; but then if he wasn't with Aveline, the woman wouldn't be interested in a low-ranking guard like him. It was obvious that she was just trying to rile the Guard Captain's feathers. For some reason the pirate seemed to enjoy torturing her. And him… apparently…

"We should get back to the soldiers sooner rather than later. We're only here to check the passages, not to get lost."

"Such a shame, if we got lost _together_…"

Donnic gave a shudder and a sigh simultaneously. He was going to kill Hawke for putting him in this situation. Or even better, he was going to wait until they got back to Kirkwall and have Aveline do it for him. She was far more brutal…

"I have no intention of getting lost. With _anyone_." He picked up his pace.

"Wait. I have another one."

_Oh dear Maker._ "Go on, then…"

"What's lost in the dark, having trouble in his tights and has a problem admitting what he wants?"

"You're not even _trying _anymore."

He saw Isabella smirk in the gloom. This was getting beyond ridiculous now. He turned to face her and waved a mailed finger at her face. "Here's one for _you._ What's got a questionable reputation and needs to _be quiet?_" He paused. "Right _now._"

Isabella stared at him for a moment, almost _innocently_. "Are you trying to make some sort of _point_? Anyway, you didn't guess mine so…"

"Maker help me, what is it _this_ time?"

"You need to strip off down to your underwear and cluck like a chicken…"

Donnic hoped that Aveline would be particularly sadistic…

…

"So… enlighten me, Elf."

"Hmmmm?" Fenris turned away from the fire they had built to look to the dwarf.

"When I said 'don't think; just do', what did you think that meant…?"

"You want me to walk up to her and grope her?" The swordsman asked sarcastically.

"No… Maker! I don't think after a beating like that we'd recognise you afterwards…"

"Then what _exactly_ did you expect me to do? We're down here in defence of Kirkwall… I can't exactly tell that… venhedis to…"

"Woah, woah… you're going about this whole thing the wrong way, my broody friend. This is an _opportunity_. A chance to let Hawke know how much you care…"

"She knows how much I care."

"…You yelled at her for thinking you'd given her a rose, Elf."

"Well, what was I supposed to think?" Fenris waved his hands in agitation. "For years, Hawke and I… we've never _talked _about it… but there's always been something _there_. Or I thought there was." Fenris felt a little uncomfortable revealing this to Varric. But he needed to speak to someone, and after the dwarf's earlier advice he seemed like the most biddable ally. Fenris accepted the flask that Varric handed him and took a large swig. The elf mused for a moment, much more than his pride was at stake… he may as well swallow it now and get used to the idea.

"Go on…" The beardless dwarf intruded on the swordsman's thoughts.

"Well, _you_ told me that a King was flirting with Hawke, a rose turns up on her doorstep the next day… and then the first words out of his mouth when he sees her are 'flower lady'."

"Ahhh, you think the Warden King has been slipping some horticulture in Hawke's direction?"

"…well when you say it like _that_ it sounds ridiculous."

"It _is_ ridiculous. So what? Someone besides you has noticed what a catch Hawke is… or did you think every other man in the city was blind?"

Fenris grunted. "Well… no…"

"I mean it didn't bother you so much when Blondie…"

"That was different."

"_How_ was that different?"

"Hawke wasn't interested."

Varric chuckled. "How do _you_ know? At the end of the day, Elf, you _won_ her and then you didn't _claim_ her. Someone like Hawke isn't going to sit on the shelf for long… And I don't even know what you were _thinking_ leaving with the Rivaini…"

"I was angry."

"You were stupid."

"Nothing. Happened."

"I know that, but does _Hawke_?"

"I did it to… I don't know… make her jealous, perhaps? Maybe I was hoping that she'd stop me."

"Well, that doesn't matter now, what matters is getting her back."

"If she even _wants_ me anymore… I feel like such a fool…"

"Trust me Elf, she's got a thing for you. We'll work something out… just don't give her that cheesy line about being a night-light with in-built matches…"

"I have never said that in my life…" Fenris scowled.

"Only according to _your_ stories…."

….

Anders was still deep in thought. Of course his role as a healer had kept him busy; he had made stew for Merrill and the King's men, he had folded his bandages properly and ensured his ingredients were all on stand-by in his bag.

He had felt something _wrong_ when Hawke had walked away into the darkness with Alistair. He had met the man once before- though he doubted that the mighty King of Ferelden remembered it- and Anders knew that he was a good man. But it was not the man's honour that made him wary. It was something much bigger.

The veil felt thin. Dangerously thin. He had noticed as soon as he had conjured flame, and it had burned with the same pale blue as Justice's light. He could not voice his fears to Hawke, largely because he did not know what they were himself. But something here was wrong.

"You know Anders, if you never play with him, Lightning will never respect you as his master."

The mage was pulled from his thoughts and looked to the dark haired elf, who was tickling the furless rat on its stomach. Even though he lived in Darktown and had seen more than his fair share of vermin, Anders was fairly certain he had never seen such a desperate specimen as the 'appropriately' named 'Lightning'. Truth be told, if it hadn't been Hawke who asked, he would have found a way to dispose of the beast. Or set it free. Either seemed just as kind.

"I'll find time soon enough, you just keep him company for now, Merill." Maker, she was hard work. He wondered fleetingly if knocking her unconscious and sending her back to the Dalish with a courier and a forged note of apology to the Keeper would be feasible…

Merrill sighed, she reminded him of a sulking child. Anders rolled his eyes and cursed Hawke beneath his breath. He wasn't sure to what extent the swordswoman was aware of how she had him wrapped around her little finger… but whenever he ended up in these awkward situations he invariably had her to blame. He grunted. "Bring the scabby thi… I mean _Lightning_ here, then. You can help me crush this elfroot."

Merrill bounced over enthusiastically; Anders noted immediately that not only did she very definitely _not_ even _look_ at the elfroot she was supposed to be helping with; she also didn't put the rat down. "He's _so_ sweet when he wiffles…"

"I'll take your word for it."

"Will you give him a kiss?"

Anders blinked when suddenly there was a very mangy mass being held inches from his face. "_Maker! No!... _I mean… not whilst preparing healing potions, Merrill. It doesn't seem very hygienic."

Merrill's eyes widened with dismay and she withdrew the rat back to her chest. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you found him in the _sewer_, Merrill. Have you even washed him?"

"Oh, I didn't think of that. Being honest, I'd never been in a sewer before. I can't say that it smelled very nice; it took me forever to wash my clothes. I never knew stagnant water could smell so horrible."

"You think that smell was stagnant… _yes_, that's probably what it was." Anders sighed. The contents and functions of a sewer was a topic he very definitely did not want to educate Merrill in.

"You _do_ like him, don't you Anders?"

"Of course…" Anders knew that his tone betrayed him. He knew that the somewhat sarcastic response would hurt her. Anders was torn, he didn't want to upset her, but already he craved for some peace and quiet. Merrill may be oblivious most of the time, but she couldn't have missed that…

How wrong he was.

"As much as you like me…?"

Anders fought the overwhelming urge to be cruel. "Um…"

He wished he had taken the opportunity when the coy grin spread across Merrill's face. "As much as you like _Hawke_?"

Anders almost dropped his mortar and pestle. "_What?_" He could feel his cheeks redden.

"Well, you're always nice to her."

"Merrill, I'm always nice to…"

"Name _one_ other person you're always nice to."

Anders hesitated. He had often had harsh words with Merrill about her magic practices… and Isabella about her sexual ones. He'd accused Aveline of collaborating with the Templars, he'd insulted Sebastian's blind religious views, teased Varric about his crooked schemes… and it was no secret that he bore Fenris no love…

Damn.

"… that doesn't mean!"

"I thought there was something going on for a while." Merrill reflected wistfully, whilst, to Ander's horror, she popped Lightning onto the table. In the _middle_ of the roots he had already finished. Yet the elf did not see his glare as she turned to lean against the table. His _herb_ table on which he always prepared the potions that saved lives, the table he had carried to the Deep Roads _himself_… "But then I noticed her spending more time with Fenris, and I remember thinking 'Oh, dear. Poor Anders.'"

Anders' jaw clenched. More than anything he wanted to throttle her…

"But Hawke's very pretty, isn't she? Not pretty like Isabella, but Isabella always tells me she's _sexy_ not _pretty_. I don't really know the difference._ And_ she's really nice… Hawke, not Isabella… not to say Isabella's not _nice_ as well…"

Anders sucked in a calming breath and closed his eyes. _You knew this wouldn't be easy. You're doing this as a favour to Hawke. And to serve the people of Kirkwall. You have managed to control your rage in the face of injustice and persecution. You can tolerate a few weeks with…_

"I mean… do _you_ think Hawke's sexy?"

Anders opened his eyes. "Go and wash the damn rat and I'll give it a kiss."

Merrill smiled, and went to ask the men for a bowl. Anders looked down to his furless companion. "Is it wrong that I prefer you?"

….

"It was Varric and Fenris at the deeper thaig, wasn't it?" Alistair queried.

"You _know_ it is. Merrill and Anders at the crossroads, Isabella and Donnic closer to the surface as second line of…"

"I know that."

Hawke shot him a baffled expression. "Then why did you ask?"

"I just wanted to prepare myself mentally."

"Don't tell me you're claustrophobic because you're in the wrong place…" Hawke chuckled.

"No, I mean for speaking to that elf again, I rather get the feeling he doesn't like me, as such…"

"Don't take it personally. He doesn't like _anyone_." Hawke heard her own tone harden at the mention of Fenris, yet her stomach twisted. She hadn't thought about that.

They hadn't spoken since he had left with Isabella… even when he had gone off with Alistair's scouting group he had announced his intentions to her and stalked away without waiting for her to reply.

"Really? He doesn't like _anyone_…?" Alistair raised an eyebrow quizzically. His tone hinted at something.

"What _exactly_ are you getting at, Alistair?"

"Well, I rather thought that the two of you…"

"The two of us… what? Wrestle old women of an evening wearing funny hats? Have tea-parties in frilly dresses? Sneak into the Qunari compound when all's quiet to put the Arishok's fingers in warm water so he…"

"Ahhhh, now you're avoiding the subject with _humour_. Clever… unfortunately for you I _invented_ avoiding awkward conversations with jokes."

"But doesn't that imply that you're funny on occasion?" Hawke grinned.

"_Ouch!_" He laughed and held an arm across his breastplate and staggered as if she had struck him. "Right in the chest."

"The best place to aim."

"You wouldn't be saying that if _I_ was aiming for _your_…"

"If you value your life you will _not_ finish that sentence."

"Sorry…" He chuckled, "But you _know_ what I'm talking about." The transition in the man's voice made Hawke stop and somehow she felt her defences were no longer there. It reminded her of the way Fenris' voice had changed when he was with her and they were alone. From cutting and harsh, to soft and warm. It always made her feel special, as ridiculous as that sounded.

"_Is_ there anything…?" Alistair asked again softly.

Hawke sighed, "Not that I'm aware of. I used to think so… but…" She frowned to herself. She had no reason to think that Fenris had given her feelings a second thought, why should she consider his?

Alistair must have caught sight of her expression, because he intruded on her thoughts in a comforting tone. "I see."

Hawke gave a dry laugh. "Do you?"

"Well… no, actually. I'd be lying if I said I did."

"That makes two of us." Hawke gave the man and small, but genuine smile which he returned, holding her gaze for a few moments. Hawke almost cursed aloud as she felt the heat in her cheeks spread across her face. She turned away to face the darkened corridor before them once more. "This part of the path seems a little steeper…" She mumbled, trying to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.

"And narrower." Alistair stated, holding the flame torch before them and into the passage. "I'll go first with the light. Then I can hold it back for you. It may take a little longer, but at least we're less likely to break our necks." The heavily armoured King made his way forward carefully. Once he had negotiated himself down the first drop he turned and held the torch up.

Hawke stared at the illuminated figure incredulously. "You _do_ know that doesn't help… All you've done is move the shadows, I still can't see the path."

"Oh… alright." Alistair shifted slightly closer to her and held out his hand, angling the torch behind him. "I can see where you're stepping, so you should be fine."

Hawke had more than a few reservations about the exercise, but she wasn't about to tell Alistair what they were. She leaned forward to take his hand… she couldn't reach. Hawke shuffled forward. She leaned forward again… too far. She missed the offered support as her foot slipped.

As Hawke fell, she heard a high-pitched yelp come from her own mouth, and she desperately threw her arms out to grab onto whatever she could to save herself, closing her eyes instinctively. Before her feet hit the floor, a firm grip wrapped around her waist, pulling her forward; she heard the clash of metal.

When Hawke opened her eyes, she was staring at a very ornate metal breastplate. She swallowed and the blonde looked up to realise Alistair's face was just inches from hers.

"Well… that was a good catch… um… sorry… bad joke…" She saw him blush.

"Ummm… Alistair?"

"What is it?"

"You can put me down now."

His blush intensified. "I knew that…"

…..

Varric watched the darkness.

_Movement. _He was sure he had seen it just a moment ago. A little rustle accompanied by a swift change of shadow. If Varric had blinked he would never have known it was there. But he _hadn't_. And he _did_.

"Something wrong?" Fenris asked, approaching. The elf had a bowl of stew in either hand, but when he Varric held up a gesture indicating for him to halt, Fenris set them to the ground and his hand went to the sword hilt at his back.

"Get the men ready." Varric instructed quietly. "Make sure no one panics. We need to act as natural as humanly possible… maybe it'll just carry on walking…"

"What is it?"

"Don't know, Elf. But this far down in the Deep Roads…? It isn't likely to be anything good, is it?"

Fenris gave a low grunt of agreement and Varric sensed him retreat towards the men.

Varric had had a bad feeling about this so called 'thaig' from the word 'go'. Like the primeval thaig they had discovered with Bartrand, the markings were so ancient that Varric could make neither head nor tail of them. There were also slots in the towering walls around them, long horizontal ones spaced evenly and consistently all around the room. They appeared to be some kind of shelves... though Varric surmised that they were more likely the mark of something more sinister. He didn't know exactly what, but his gut told him that something was wrong.

There was one path before Varric that led further into the Deep Roads. The dwarf _knew_ nothing had come in or out of that tunnel while he had been on watch. So where _had_ that shadow fled to?

"Hawke…" She heard the elf's voice behind her, far softer than he had spoken to her previously. Varric smirked to himself: _Go get her, Elf_.

"Fenris?" Hawke seemed surprised at his change of approach.

"What? You're not going to say hello to me?" The Warden King asked jokingly, though the dwarf could sense a little hostility in his tone.

"Apologies, greetings 'venhedis'…"

"You know I actually _speak_ some Arcanum…" The King answered coldly.

Varric couldn't stifle the laugh.

"Really, how unfortunate…" The elf replied with more than a little sarcasm.

"_What_ exactly is going on here?" Hawke interjected, sounded very puzzled.

"Ask him." Both men accused simultaneously.

"… alright."

Varric's laughter came to a halt as Hawke started demanding the two to behave themselves. The dwarf could only imagine the look on each man's face, being chastised by a slip of a swordswoman whilst glaring daggers into each other's foreheads…

As Varric's eyes opened, his blood ran cold. Dark shadows seemed to flicker as if the walls themselves were moving.

And in the middle of the passage, barely illuminated by the light of the camp, a figure standing upright. Both weapons drawn.

The rogue squinted.

It looked like a genlock, except… it didn't hold itself like a genlock. It was stood too straight, too proud. Why was it not hunched over? Why hadn't he heard it's abhorrent, low chuckle? And those wisps, that extra volume around the face… was that a beard? A dwarf? That couldn't be right. Varric didn't have time for a more detailed analysis. "HAWKE!"

Within seconds, the swordswoman had passed him, running full pelt at the shadowy figure, Alistair and Fenris close behind her.

When Hawke got to mere metres away, the creature- whatever it was- turned on its heel and disappeared into the tunnel. Varric frowned as he hefted Bianca into his grip and began running; if he didn't know better he'd say they were running towards… an ambush…

"Hawke!"

She didn't hear him. She had already faded into the darkness ahead.

Varric sped to her. _Shit! How could he not have seen this coming from the start?! Why else would the creature have made itself so obvious?_

Yet as quickly as Varric moved, every twist in that tunnel did not reveal the armoured blonde and her faithful troops.

Varric's heart jumped when he saw the back of Fenris; Hawke and Alistair only feet in front of him. They had come to a halt. But he could tell by the elf's stance that he was about to move again.

Varric cast his eyes about desperately, the light from the King's torch did little to aid the dwarf's swift examination, he saw movement on a ledge before them… he saw a large darkened panel on the floor…

"It's a trap!"

Varric reached forward and succeeded in grabbing Fenris' scabbard, he dragged him back off the dark stone. As they tumbled backwards to the ground, the dwarf heard the elf scream out for Hawke, he saw her blonde hair disappear into the engulfing shadow…

He felt the elf surge forward, still calling desperately for her…

His calls into the dark remained unanswered.


	8. Echoes of Darkness

"My answer is the same as it was five minutes ago, Isabella… and to honour your favourite game I shall give it to you in the form of a riddle… ahem… 'It rhymes with '_woe_'."

"But…"

"I'm engaged to be married… to a_ wonderful _woman."

"Well… what she doesn't know…"

"Maker help me… For the last time, I am _not_ playing strip poker with you…" Donnic folded his arms across his chest and frowned at the Rivaini.

"It's just _looking_, you don't have to _touch_."

"There shall be none of either. You know… you've got about a dozen other men in there you could be harassing incessantly. Go and bother one of them."

The pirate pouted, not fully concealing the coy smile on her lips. "Maybe I'm in the mood for something more… local." She closed the distance between them and ran a finger down his armour. Her lips moved towards his neck.

Donnic batted her hand away, seized both her shoulders and forced her back a few steps. "I have never struck a woman before, Isabella, but Andraste be my witness, if you _ever_…."

The Rivaini's head suddenly cocked to one side and her playful expression dropped to one of seriousness. Donnic stopped his threat; he had never seen her so concentrated. "Footsteps. Running." She reported urgently.

The guardsman couldn't hear anything himself, but he knew better than to ignore the rogue's instincts. His hands dropped from Isabella's shoulders and moved to his weapons. He hissed to the men who huddled by the fire. They didn't move as quietly as he would have liked, but they did move quickly.

Donnic could now hear the booted footfalls. Maker! There was more than one?

"Can you tell how many?"

"Three…. Maybe four." The Rivaini drew steel, only to sigh when four of Alistair's men burst in to view. She sheathed her knives.

"We have urgent news! The King… Serah Hawke…."

"What about them?" Donnic asked sternly, his heart leapt into his throat. Something had happened, why else would the lad have run across the Deep Roads at such pace?

The first man reached them, his face red and wet from sweat. The man panted before answering. "They fell…"

…..

"Very. _Clever_."

"I know." Varric replied, as he ran his studied the dark panel. I've examined it a million times and I can't find the switch! And to top it off look at the rust on these hinges! This trapdoor must be centuries old…"

"No, I mean very clever of _Hawke…_ This is certainly _one_ way to create… '_opportunities_'…" Isabella smirked

"Would you get your mind out of the gutter for a _minute_, woman? Hawke's in danger!" Fenris snapped.

"Calm down, Elf. Panicking won't help us _or_ Hawke." Varric sighed. "Well, I don't normally admit defeat, but I can't get this open… we're going to have to carry on down the tunnel and try and work out our bearings. Has word been sent to Aveline?"

Donnic tore his eyes away from his friend. Fenris' usual disinterested yet aloof demeanour had been replaced by complete anxiety. The guardsman could understand it. He could only _imagine_ what he would do if anything happened to Aveline… and recent events had proven that Hawke was not as invulnerable as they all seemed to assume. It was a chilling thought, to think that something might happen to her. "Yes, I sent some of the men with me to deliver the message to Anders, then to make sure the news gets to Kirkwall as soon as…"

"Varric? Fenris? What's happened? Is Hawke alright?" Anders burst into view followed by a worried looking Merrill.

"We don't know… and I'm not delaying finding out any longer…" The white-haired swordsman stopped his pacing to walk with purpose towards the shadow of the tunnel.

"Fenris, wait! We need to…" Donnic called out.

"We _need_ to what?" Fenris swung to face him, "Hawke is missing and I am going to find her and bring her back. And if no-one else wants to come I'll do it by myself." The expression the elf's face made Donnic smile in spite of himself, and in a strange sense it filled him with relief. The grit determination in Fenris' eyes, the way his jaw was set. The guardsman was suddenly without a doubt that the man would and _could_ do it.

He would bring Hawke home, even if he had to carry her all the way.

"I'll go with you," Anders moved towards the tunnel. "If she's been hurt you'll need me. I've left enough healing potions to last Alistair's men."

"I'm coming too. You two will never get around traps like this one…" Varric muttered the last sentence.

"Me too." Merrill swallowed.

"I'm just sorry I didn't pack some sandwiches and cakes, it could have been a 'Hawke Reunion Picnic'." The Rivaini chuckled to herself, "No?" She asked innocently as she caught sight of Fenris and Anders' glare.

Merrill frowned in confusion at the two men, "What's wrong with that? I'm sure Hawke would love a sandwich…"

"…oh, Kitten…"

….

"A bit higher." Hawke encouraged.

"Is that better?"

"… I honestly can't tell." She sighed.

"You know, this would work _much_ better if you removed your armour?"

"For the last time, I'm _not_ getting undressed for this…"

"Not even the gauntlets…?" Alistair asked hopefully, "it really hurts when you… ow!... When you lose your balance and accidentally **cuff** me."

"_That_ wasn't an accident. Now stop complaining and put me down." Hawke grunted as her feet hit the ground and Alistair sighed in relief.

They had woken on the stone floor some time ago; besides a few armour dents and bruises they appeared completely intact- although their predicament was undeniably dire. They had clearly fallen quite a distance as Hawke couldn't even make out the tunnel that had brought them here. The blonde desperately hoped that Fenris had fared better than they had… that he wasn't hurt…

His tone had been softer, she remembered, when he spoke her name last. She sighed; it seemed too vain a hope to wish that things could go back to the way they were before all of this. She was reading too much into it… she was looking for affection that wasn't there.

"I thought women were meant to be _light_ and _dainty_?" She heard Alistair groan, his hand to his back.

Hawke's gaze swung to Alistair, "And I thought Kings were meant to be _gentlemen_?"

"I'll have you know that I'm the perfect…"

"You've spent the last few hours trying to get me to take off my clothes." Hawke cut in with a smirk.

"… For purely _practical_ reasons…" The King protested.

"So you say…"

His eyes narrowed as he took in the amusement in her tone. "You're _teasing _me…" He returned her smirk, "_Wow_, it's not normally this way around."

Hawke laughed, "No offence, Alistair, but I think you're probably as bad at this as I am."

"You're probably right. Anyway, if we can't climb back up we need to think of another plan."

"Wander aimlessly in the Deep Roads until we find an exit or get rescued?" Hawke offered.

"_Excellent_ plan. Well, this seems like the only way out for now," he gestured towards the darkness.

"Well then, I suppose we should start walking then."

"Probably, and we should be extra careful. The darkspawn here are clearly much more organised than I expected."

"Agreed." Hawke recalled that shadowy figure that had run so swiftly into the shadows so quietly. How it had led them into that trap so effortlessly. The way it had moved, seemed different than a genlock somehow. "But I don't think it's just the darkspawn we've got to worry about…"

…..

The twisting dark tunnel seemed to go on forever. In spite of the darkness making things difficult, Alistair kept his eyes peeled for any signs of movement. He hadn't mentioned it to Hawke… the tainted blood in him screamed. But the _real_ problem was that Alistair couldn't work out why.

He sensed the darkspawn, how could he not when in the Deep Roads? But it was not that that troubled him. He sensed… _something_. It created a desire, an _urge_ in him. He wanted to run, to seek it out… even though he couldn't work out _what_ it was that he wanted to find.

The King shook his head to clear his thoughts. He had fought the effects of the taint for many years now; this was just something he would have to master.

"Are you alright, Alistair?" Hawke asked beside him.

"I'm fine, just a little tired."

"Well, we _have_ been walking for some time. Perhaps we should take a break?" She suggested, although he could tell she hadn't bought his excuse for a second.

"No, let's just keep going until we find _something_, at least…" To his immense relief, Hawke didn't press for further information and just nodded in agreement, although she gave him a small reassuring smile. Such a simple gesture that told him she understood, and that she trusted him to tell her when he could. Alistair felt himself smile. There was something about the woman that he was drawn to, he couldn't deny it.

Something about her wit, her humility, her strength… the way she _cared_ about people so much. The King couldn't put a finger on exactly what it was, but it seemed as though everything she did made him feel even more affection for her, and it made him want to be closer to her.

Alistair's cheeks flushed a little when he recalled how he had caught her earlier as she slipped and held her so close.

Not that he would have admitted it to her, but he had been tempted to kiss her… The King grunted to himself. Maker! This was ridiculous! How could he even _entertain_ such thoughts given the situation, let alone about someone he had only just met? Yet as he chastised himself, Alistair already knew the answer…

His wits returned as Hawke's hand rested on his shoulder. As the Warden King followed her gaze he realised what she had spotted. A blue, luminous glow further down the tunnel. "Lyrium?" She asked.

"Looks like it, looks like a _lot_ of it."

"Does that count as that the _something_ you wanted to find?" She grinned at him.

Alistair looked down at her, and smiled softly. "You could say that…"

…

Varric studied the markings on the floor, "No doubt about it, some poor sod was dragged through here."

"… then, Hawke?" Fenris pre-empted.

The dwarf shook his head, "Hold on, Elf. It looks like only _one_ person was dragged, and these tracks are too old for them to have been…"

"Still… the fact that there are so many tracks at so many points in the tunnel is… troubling, and I've spotted several smears of blood at different points." Anders frowned.

"You thinking what I'm thinking, Blondie?"

"It's not unheard of for darkspawn to abduct a person, but it's not heard of that _much_ either. I've never seen anything like this…"

"Abductions… darkspawn… who _cares_? If Hawke isn't here there's no point standing about…" Isabella interrupted, shifting her weight from leg to leg in impatience.

"Well said, Rivaini," Varric stood from his crouching position.

As the group made their way forward Fenris reached out for Anders' elbow to stop him. "Mage."

"Fenris…" Anders acknowledged, his brow wrinkles with lines of confusion.

"What's wrong?" Isabella huffed as she once again came to a halt.

"You don't think it _is_ darkspawn do you?" The elf met the mage's gaze evenly.

Anders sighed, "I hadn't wanted to say anything until I was sure."

"Well, say it. You and I both know there's not enough blood here. These people who have being dragged were barely injured, and there aren't _any_ signs of corpses."

"The Veil is very thin here." Anders started, he wasn't sure how Fenris would react to the news, but he had no right to keep this to himself. If his assumptions were correct, the situation was much direr than they could have anticipated. "It's so thin I'm having to constantly hold Justice back… I hadn't wanted to say it, but lack of bodies, the weakened state of the Veil… I think someone's been using Blood Magic."

"Before, just before we lost Hawke, I thought there was something… _peculiar_ about that darkspawn that we chased." Varric sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced it wasn't a genlock, it was a dwarf… but I mean, come _on_! _How_ could it _possibly_ be a dwarf…?"

"Dwarves can't use magic anyway, can they…?" Merrill frowned, looking to Varric.

"No, Daisy, they can't. Still… thin Veil, rogue dwarves, no bodies and no Hawke… I don't know what we've bitten off, but I think we might struggle to chew it…"

"I wish Hawke was here." The dark-haired elf said what Fenris was thinking word for word.

Where was she? Was she hurt? He would find her… even if he had to scour every inch of the Deep Roads to do it…

"I'll cut down whatever stands between me and Hawke." He growled. "I am _not_ frightened of dwarves or Blood Magic."

"What about Alistair?" He heard the pirate mutter beneath her breath.

Fenris pretended not to hear it, or Merrill's hushed call for the Rivaini's silence. Instead he ran on, towards her. Towards _his_ Hawke.

…

"You're _quite_ sure?" He asked the dwarf.

"_Quite_ sure... It won't be long."

"Make sure that it isn't, Werner, for all we know this is our last chance to get this right… You and I both know the lyrium will run out, and who _knows_ when someone taint-free will next walk this tunnel…"

"The scouts say that she kept the line against a vast number of darkspawn singlehandedly. She is _strong_, it _will_ work this time." It sounded more of an order than a promise.

Cormac rubbed his beard in thought. He hoped that Werner was right; all other offerings had proved too weak to live through the procedure... let alone make it successful.

"And the man…?"

"He has the taint."

"Pity… still, no matter. I'm sure we can use that to our advantage. Just make sure you don't hurt the girl…"

"No blood shall be spilled."

Cormac laughed dryly, "You've promised me that before…"

"We've never had a hostage before."

Cormac nodded. Of all the thaig's survivors, Werner frightened him the most. The dwarf had maintained his sanity, not succumbing to the darkness as the rest of the dwarves had. Yet, in a strange way he had become much more monstrous than his kin. Cormac had no doubt that he would be dead by now if he hadn't proved useful. Not that the dwarf had ever dared to challenge him openly. The mage swallowed, "You really do think of everything, don't you?"

"_Everything_…"


	9. Snares

"And what _exactly _do you want me to do about it?" Aveline raised an eyebrow in question. She didn't appreciate her authority being questioned, especially not in her own office.

"I'm just _saying_ we've not heard anything, perhaps it would be wise for us to go and see for ourselves?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Sebastian, I have a _city_ to keep in order."

"From what you've told me, this affects the city directly. If anything _has_ happened we're better off knowing sooner than later…" The archer had known that Aveline would be difficult to move, but he had not anticipated _such_ resistance from Hawke's oldest friend.

"If you're so concerned why didn't you go with them in the first place?" The Guard Captain asked in irritation.

"You _know_ why… Her Grace herself asked a favour of me."

"Exactly. You had to put your duties first, and so do I. Don't think for one _second_ I'm not as worried as you are, but I can't abandon my post without good reason…"

The door to the office flung open and standing in the frame was an armoured man.

Aveline caught Sebastian's gaze as she stood, and the would-be prince struggled to hide his smirk at her barely masked annoyance… yet it faded to panic as she took in the sight of the fine Ferelden armour, signature of the Warden King's guards. He collapsed in the doorway, bloodied and gasping for air. The two rushed to the man's side. His injuries seemed only minor. Aveline sighed, "Well, looks like I've got a reason." She put the fallen guard's arm around her neck as she and Sebastian helped him to stand. "In your own time, son."

…..

"Fasta Vass! What's _taking_ them so long?"

"You asked me that roughly five minutes ago…" Anders snapped, "and funnily enough… I _still_ don't know…"

"They're probably still checking the corridors… Isabella was _sure_ something was moving down there." Merrill cut in to diffuse the obvious tension.

"Yes, _thank you_. Because I _wasn't_ standing right here when all of that was said." The swordsman replied sarcastically.

"You don't need to take it out on Merrill."

"Thank you, Anders. By the _way…_ when _are_ you going to start carrying Lightning around…?"

"…Shut up, Merrill."

"A mage _and_ a hypocrite?" Fenris muttered.

"I got him for _you,_ Anders… but you won't take him with you… I think you're starting to hurt his feelings."

Anders was torn between who to answer back first. He glanced at Donnic, looking for support, but the guardsman just held up his hands, shrugged and shook his head. "It's a _rat_, Merrill, rats don't **_have_** feelings," he sighed.

"Ahhh, so you're able to delve into the psychology of vermin but you can't hazard a guess at what's been scurrying around ahead of us…?"

"I'm a mage not a psychic." He turned on Fenris.

"So your connection to rats is purely _empathic_, then?" The swordsman retorted.

"Oh, give it a _rest_…" His voice trailed off and Fenris frowned at the blonde mage in concern.

The blighted blood had suddenly flared in Anders' veins; his head swam... so many images crashing into each other, merging in his head. Anders hunched over, trying to catch his breath and regain some composure.

As the visions played out, he tried to make some sense of them. This was not a sensation he had ever experienced in all his time in the Deep Roads. It was not darkspawn he could sense… but something tainted nonetheless. Something he was familiar with, but wasn't accustomed to. At least not since he left the wardens…..

No. How would that even make _sense_?

"Stay out of the way!" He heard Fenris bark. Assumedly to Merrill.

As Anders senses returned, he became aware of Fenris in front of him, and the crashing of steel on steel. The light behind him told him that Merrill was casting, and he could see Donnic moving out of the corner of his eye. How could the darkspawn have attacked without him sensing them first? Anders staggered to his feet, preparing himself for the battle.

But he couldn't see any darkspawn. He saw only small, stocky, shadowed figures… he had seen this smoke effect before… Varric created it with a special bolt he used…

Maker… they _were_ dwarves?!

Yet Anders did not have time to contemplate. He pulled his magic forward and began the fight.

…

"Rivaini… are you _sure_ you heard something this deep in… I thought you said the shuffling wasn't more than thirty feet away?" Varric queried, although the way the tunnel twisted and coiled on itself was misleading, they must have walked more than that distance by now.

"It _was_. It was must have heard us coming and made a run for it..."

"_Or_ disappeared into one of those warrens that we never notice until it's too late…" The dwarf sighed, returning Bianca to her holster on his back.

Isabella growled in frustration, "Shifty bastards. Darkspawn… dwarves… _whatever_ they are, they could give Castillon a run for his money." Varric studied her stance; she seemed deflated as she looked further down the tunnel and sheathed her knives.

"Hey, Rivaini… riddle me something."

"I make_ no_ promises."

"Why chase the elf when you know how Hawke…"

Isabella gave a load groan of exasperation. "Not _this_ again… it's just **rutting**… and it's not like those markings spell out Hawke's name."

"You don't feel bad at all…?"

"No…." She answered quickly, "well… maybe a _little_."

"Thought so…" The dwarf chuckled as they turned to make their way back.

"Hmmm… by the _way_, Varric, if you tell anyone what I have just divulged, I will deny _all_ knowledge."

"Not a word shall pass these lips, Rivaini."

"Good. Oh, and Varric…" Isabella cocked her head and gestured a direction with her eyes.

Varric sighed a smile at the pirate and nodded. He found it a little patronising that she had felt the need to point out their audience, but the Rivaini was undoubtedly used to working with individuals where it was necessary.

"I see them, Rivaini." His hand moved to Bianca, as Isabella's did to her blades.

"Remember, if we kill them… we get their stuff."

"Got that, Rivaini… one, two three…"

The rogues moved swiftly. Their would-be ambushers were more than surprised by the speed and skill of their quarry, and soon found themselves on the defensive. Faced with the combined fury of a frustrated pirate and a _very_ angry Bianca, there was little they could do other than fall back as they watched their brethren fall down.

Within seconds, the tunnel echoed with the thundering of armoured boots fleeing into the darkness. Varric returned the bolt he was holding to its quiver and glanced at Isabella, who shrugged when she caught his gaze. "I've had more _fun _distractions…"

"But _what_ was it distracting us _from_, I wonder."

"Beats me," the dark haired rogue made her way towards one of the fallen corpses to claim her loot. "All I can say is they'll have to do better than _that_ to get the jump on me…" She knelt beside the figure.

"Hmmm, it didn't look like they were used to surprises… at least ones they haven't sprung themselves."

"Well, at least we know you were right about one thing…?"

Varric chuckled, "I'm right about lots of things, Rivaini… but which one in particular are you referring to?"

Isabella grabbed the corpse by the collar and pulled it towards her so that Varric could get a better look. "They're dwarves… with funny eyes and blue skin… apparently…"

Varric joined her study. "Signs of darkspawn corruption. And once again, the plot thickens…"

"Well, we've given them reason to pause from assaulting us further… should we get back?"

"Let's have a look around to see what if we can find anything else…"

"But if these… _things_… attack…"

"_Please_, Rivaini... these things are practically darkspawn, and Blondie's a Grey Warden" The dwarf chuckled at Isabella's concern, "I don't think they'll be able to sneak up on…."

"_Fine_. You're probably right anyway."

"I am _always_ right." He grinned.

…..

"Fenris! Get down!" Anders sent the fireball hurtling towards the elf's opponent, though the swordsman was also knocked back in the process.

"Venehedis mage! You nearly took my head off!" Fenris surged to his feet angrily.

"I told you to get down!"

"I didn't need to 'get down'; I _needed_ to 'get **back**'!"

"Honestly, Fenris, I can't think of a single reason I would want to take your head off… oh no, _wait_. Yes I can…"

"Just keep your magic to yourself."

"What can I say? I apologise for saving your life?"

"You _didn't_ save my life; I am capable of defending myself without need of _your_ interference."

"I'll be sure to tell Hawke that when I present you to her… in a _box_."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, you _arse_ … it's…"

"Melana sahlin!"

Both men were flung to the ground.

"Merrill there's not even any **_blighted enemies left_**!" Anders roared.

"Oh… _sorry_…" She giggled nervously as she lowered her staff, "I got a bit carried away there."

"I'd suggest you make sure it doesn't happen again." Fenris grumbled as he got back to his feet once more.

"Is it just me… or were they very strange darkspawn?" Merrill ignored the swordsman's glare.

"They _weren't_ darkspawn. Varric was right, they're dwarves…" Anders sighed.

"A convenient excuse for not sensing creatures obviously filled to the eyeballs with tainted blood… But at least now the enemy has shown itself. We will be prepared next time."

"Do you think Hawke knows about these… dwarf darkspawn things, yet?" The dark haired mage asked.

_Hawke_.

Fenris closed his eyes, allowing images of the woman to flood his mind; whenever he pictured her she was smiling… But he supposed that that was because he had never seen her _not_ smiling… With the exception, of course, of _that_ night. Recalling the hurt in her eyes - and knowing that it was _his_ fault - made Fenris feel sick.

He didn't want to be the one to make her look like that, the one to make Hawke sad. He wanted to be the one to make her happy.

The thought of losing that chance to the darkness around them made Fenris ache.

He couldn't let that happen…

….

"Oh come _on_… we need to do _something_ to keep our spirits up."

"I just think that singing '99 Mages Escape from the Tower' is a _little_ offensive."

"It's not _that _offensive."

_"99 mages escape from the tower, 99 mages escape. The First Enchanter- what a wanker- let 99 mages escape from the tower.'"_

"Well…. _Yes_, I suppose it is a little _inappropriate_…" he cleared his throat, "what about '_The Revered Mother…. Has only got one_….'"

"NEXT!"

"You're no fun." Alistair accused in a childish voice.

Hawke raised an eyebrow. "Not wanting to sing obscene songs when we're lost underground is not the definition of being 'no fun'."

"Well, it _should_ be."

"Really? _Wanting_ to sing offensive songs when we're alone in the dark is your idea of a wild party?"

"You know, you _do_ have a point… we could be doing _other_ things…" The shift in tone in the King's voice made Hawke simultaneously suspicious yet oddly curious.

"_Other_ things…?"

"Well, you've pointed it out… we're all _alone_, in the _dark…_"

Hawke crossed her arms. "Just _what_ are you getting at?"

"Weeeell… we could play strip poker…. _Ironically_."

Hawke couldn't fight the smile. "Have those pick-up lines ever worked before?"

"No, they have not."

"That doesn't surprise me. It would take someone really _special_ to understand you…"

Alistair laughed. "You know I think you could be right…"She smiled back and Alistair met her gaze. He gave a large and very _audible _sigh. The King felt his cheeks burn.

"_What_ was _that_?" Hawke teased.

"It was a yawn!" He lied.

"It was a _sigh_." She corrected.

"Well, yes… alright… maybe it was. But there's nothing wrong with sighing when you're looking at something beautiful, right?"

Hawke's laughter stopped.

"Better line?" Alistair asked hopefully.

"_Much_ better line."

Hawke found that she couldn't stop herself smiling. Maker! What was _wrong _with her? Not content with being rejected by the one person who she thought understood her; she was now developing romantic feelings for a Royal Ferelden simpleton? He was so different to Fenris… whereas Fenris had tried to show affection through a softened demeanour; Alistair just said what he felt.

It was clumsy, but it was warm.

"You know, Alistair…"

"Yes?" He asked softly.

"I don't know what's going on here, but is it… anything…?" She all but choked out the words. Hawke was nervous, and given how her most recent attempt at unveiling her feelings had gone, she felt that her shaking voice was more than justified.

"I'm not sure… it's not really like I've got much experience to call upon."

"Join the club."

"But… _yes_, I think that 'yes' is the answer."

Hawke's heart slowed as she breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. "Good to know."

"Yes… right… well now that I'm so embarrassed that my ears are blushing let's…"

There was a whistle and a bang. Hawke opened her eyes in panic. She could make out figures emerging from the mist and a slight green hue to the gas that surrounded them. She remembered Varric using something similar. _Sleeping gas?_

"Don't breathe it in, Alistair!"

But he had already charged into the fumes. It didn't take long for him to become completely overwhelmed by the gas and the stout shadowy creatures. He slumped to the ground.

Hawke sucked in a breath and held it as she rushed into the midst of the battle to aid the fallen man. She wouldn't let them have him. Whatever they were… she would not let him down.

Hawke had lost sight of their attackers. Another trap? Hawke's blood ran cold, but she did not slow her run.

The swordswoman didn't know where it came from, but a dark figure burst into her vision; there was a pressure against her breastplate and Hawke was thrown back, just clear of the gas.

Hawke spluttered as she rolled onto her front to push herself to her feet.

She would save Alistair.

Hawke gasped for air when one of the bastards kicked her in the stomach, making her drop to the ground once more. She could see where her sword had landed, she would need to move quickly to retrieve it. Hawke tensed preparing herself for the charge.

But a weight on her back pinned her to the ground. "Give up, girl, there are three blades ready to slice up your friend. He'll live only if you surrender."

Hawke's heart leapt into her throat. That twisted, gravelly voice turned her blood to ice… almost as much as the thought of being at this creature's mercy. But she needed to make sure Alistair was safe. She had no choice.

_Shit._

"Swear it." She demanded between gritted teeth.

"… You have my word."


	10. Revelations

Thank you to everyone who had reviewed, it has been really helpful!

Can I offer a special 'thank you' to Peres who has been really constructive and supportive and well... thank you, Peres :)

...

Varric looked at the numerous tainted corpses. "I'm glad I didn't bet on that sixth sense of yours, Blondie, I'd have been in severe debt…"

"It's not like I didn't sense them _at all_…" Anders defended, "but it didn't _feel_ like I was sensing darkspawn. I mean, I can sense the taint without question but…"

"So what does this mean then… are they darkspawn or not?" Merrill asked, confused by the whole situation.

"Why waste time pondering something so meaningless?" Fenris cut in impatiently. "It doesn't _matter_ what they are because they aren't going to be around for much longer…"

"I'll drink to that!" Isabella agreed enthusiastically.

"But you said yesterday that you'd drink to anything… _and_ that you're out of rum…" the dark haired mage frowned in confusion. Fenris sighed, he knew that look… and it usually meant that Merrill was trying to add one and one and coming up with five hundred.

"It's a turn of phrase, Kitten."

"How can you possibly 'turn a phrase'?"

"It's just something you say to… express how you feel. It doesn't mean you're going to physically do it…"

"But why would you say you agree to something by doing something if you're not going to do it? Doesn't that mean that you _don't_ agree…?"

"Maker, Kitten, you know how to chew something a long time and forget to swallow, don't you…?"

"But I'm not chewing… _oh_… I see what you mean…"

"Thank the Maker for _that_." The pirate chuckled and she rolled her eyes.

"Nonetheless, I think we'd be foolish not to consider this new… complication…" Donnic cleared his throat. "It doesn't matter if they carry the corruption or not, but- if I recall rightly- dwarves have a natural resistance to magic. That renders two of our fighters less effective. That means we're outnumbered even worse than we previously realised…"

The guardsman was silenced by the sound of Merrill giggling. Everyone turned their eyes to her in utter bemusement. "Silly Donnic! We don't _always_ cast spells _on_ _people_ you know… all me and Anders need to do is focus our energy on making the ground shake or the air in front of them go 'pop!'…"

"We don't all have those abilities, Merrill…" Anders told her sternly. "Varric, dwarves aren't _completely_ immune, are they?"

"Not that I've had many run-ins with mages myself, Blondie, but any magic that's hit me has always been like a punch in the gut… It hurts, but I'd rather that than a sword blade… You must have noticed it's not that effective when you've tried healing me?"

"That's true." Anders sighed dejectedly. "Then I'm not sure what good I'll be beyond my healing abilities. Perhaps we should stay here a while and think of a new strategy."

"Stay here, then." Fenris said sharply. "But I'll not delay finding Hawke because of _you_."

Anders turned to him angrily. "You _really_ think I'd leave Hawke to those creatures just because things have gotten a little complicated?"

"Perhaps your other half wishes to flee…? So he can live as an abomination for another day?"

"Perhaps you should flee instead then, you certainly had no problem running off on Hawke when she needed you the other night…"

The markings on the elf flared, as he closed the distance between himself and Anders swiftly as the latter prepared. "Say that again, _Mage_…"

Varric posted himself between them. "That's enough. Is this _really_ what you both want to be doing when those creatures could have Hawke?"

"We don't know she was taken… do we?" Merrill cut in, she sounded upset… shaken that something she didn't even understand could have her friend at its mercy.

"No, Daisy, we don't. But it's not a possibility we can ignore."

"Then why should we delay for _him_?" Fenris demanded. "For all we know Hawke could be dying and he wants us to wait about here? He said so himself… his magic is useless, it won't work on those things! That isn't going to change!"

"It will work on _you_ though…" The dwarf advised, "So for _Hawke's_ sake, Elf, _cool it_. I know you want to find her… probably more desperately than any of us, but we all care for her too." As Fenris' stance relaxed and the light from the lyrium brands faded, Varric's eyes turned to Anders who had also fallen out of battle stance. "You good, Blondie?"

Anders nodded. "Don't get me wrong, I see your point Fenris. But how would you fare without healing?"

"I'll watch your back, Anders…" Isabella offered. "I start going down, you heal me, I continue to kill things. It's a simple plan," she admitted, "but it's effective and saves us waiting about. I want you to stay with us too, Kitten… if I'm shielding Anders I won't be able to reach you if you fall…"

"I can look after…" The elf began her protest.

"I know you can. But do it for _my_ sake." The pirate winked. Merrill smiled and nodded. "Good, now that that's all sorted we can get this show back on the road…"

As the troops began moving down the tunnel, Varric caught Isabella's elbow to stop her just as the path began to narrow. "Nicely _done_, Rivaini!"

"What can I say, men with something to prove will _always_ have cockfights… and I was captain of a ship full of them for longer than I can remember. Never _once_ had a mutiny…"

"Well said… By the way, Rivaini, we're not _really_ out of rum, are we?"

Isabella smirked, "You think I'd risk running out of rum?"

"Didn't think so. So why did you tell…?"

"Oh, Merrill wanted to try some… and as _hilarious_ as that would be I don't want to have to give hour long explanations about 'sea-men' puns and what it means to 'shake hands with the First Enchanter of love'…"

"Fair enough!" Varric wiped away a tear of laughter. He looked up at her again, and his expression shifted to one of concern. "Um, Rivaini, tell me that that's not a latch switch carefully concealed behind your head…"

Isabella twisted. "_Shit._" She cursed. "Alright… this is _not_ a latch switch and this _definitely_ does _not_ look like a connection to a pressure plate further ahead…"

"Shit." Varric agreed breathily. "Rivaini…"

"Got it…"

They ran, tracing the tripwire all the way. It twisted out of sight as they came to another widening in the tunnel. Varric's breath hitched and he seemed to move in slow motion. Another darkened panel… this time on the ceiling above his four friends.

He heard the sound he knew only too well… the click of a switch being activated. He tried to call, but his words were stolen when huge black solid forms were released, and the dust filled the room.

….

Hawke and Alistair marched on, driven forward by the spears to their backs. The Warden King had woken up some time ago to discover himself slightly worse for wear and his hands bound… next to a very anxious Hawke.

Of course, he was more than relieved to see that the blonde woman was completely unharmed, but her darkened expression sent a chill down his spine.

"Where are they taking us?" Alistair knew that she didn't know any more than he did, but her silence was making him nervous.

"I don't _know_, Alistair." She sighed. "They're our captors, not tour guides."

"They didn't say anything before I woke?"

Hawke seemed to blush a little and shook her head. She could only imagine what the King might say if he learned she had given up all chance of escape to save his life…. So she decided that she would not risk finding out. "Not a thing."

"And you said nothing to them?"

"They had a_ knife_ to my _throat_… pleasantries weren't really at the forefront of my mind. I mean, what would you expect me to say?"

"Take me to your leader…?" Alistair offered.

Her gaze swept to him for a silent moment. "That is _pitiful_."

"Yes… well… it's probably where they're taking us anyway… so it's not _that_ stupid…"

"If you're stupid enough to ask the question…"

"Alright…" he grumbled, "_anyway…_ I suppose we'll find out what fate has in store for us soon enough…"

Alistair's voice was cut off as the breath was taken from his lungs. A huge, towering doorway stood proudly right in front of them. It was shrouded in shadow, which was probably why he and Hawke hadn't noticed it sooner. It was a deep red with curved black metal designs.

The Warden couldn't help but cast his mind back to the first time he had stood before the gates of Orzammar next to Marahiel, and they had been completely… well, _dwarfed_. And then they had made a few jokes about why people so _small_ felt the need to build things so _tall_.

_An inferiority complex_, Alistair had joked.

Oghren hadn't been very happy when Morrigan had repeated the jibe – making sure to name him as the author, of course. In fact the dwarf had made his feelings quite clear… physically… Alistair could recall the bruises quite clearly.

"A thaig?" Hawke queried, sounding a little unsure.

"I've never seen anything this grand at the entrance to any thaig I've seen… apart from Orzammar…"

"Yes, but Orzammar wasn't _completely destroyed_." The blonde pointed out.

A pounding of drums heralded their approach, distracting the pair from their conversation, and the great door swung slowly, ominously open. They were marched into a cavernous hall, the ceiling held up by row upon row of columns, the base of each intricately carved into the likeness of a unique dwarf, its arms positioned to hold up the bulk of the stone almost as an offering. Surely no single thaig could produce this many paragons…

Alistair's thoughts were cut off as he noticed the lighting… a huge blue orb floated unsupported in the air high above the centre of the room, emanating an eerie, pulsating light that reached the length of the room, causing sinister shadows to dance across the distant walls. Alistair shuddered when he saw the frescoed decoration that lined those walls, and turned away. He wasn't sure exactly what scenes were being depicted, but they certainly didn't look pleasant.

At the end of the hall, Alistair could make out a tall figure… definitely _not_ a dwarf then. Yet Alistair could sense something more than a disconcerting aura emanating from the man… was that… _magic_…?

"Hawke," He hissed urgently, "Listen to me; that man… he's a mage. A powerful one."

Hawke's gaze met his. "He's a _what_?"

They were approaching. Alistair was now close enough to make out the shape of the staff the man carried… a dragon head at the end? Where had he seen that before? It surely didn't matter. Not now, anyway.

"I know it doesn't make sense, we can talk about that later." He told her urgently, "But we _must_ exercise caution. We don't know what this man wants and until we do we must be polite… whatever he wants…"

They came to a halt. The King's heart thudded.

"I must welcome you; it is so rare we have such visitors. Greetings to you."

"Hello, lunatic." Hawke greeted enthusiastically.

"Yes… right… forget I said anything… it's not like I was trying to keep us _alive_ or anything…" Alistair grumbled.

"You don't _actually_ think that saying '_please_ don't kill me' or '_thank you_ for stopping that torture' is going to work do you?" Hawke asked him scathingly.

"It never hurts to have good manners…"

"It's good to see you again, Alistair."

Alistair stopped his scolding of Hawke, and they both turned to face the figure as he stepped fully into the light.

Hawke took in the slight. A tall man, taller even than Alistair; he had a slim, yet muscular frame and long black hair. He had clearly been down here for some time, all colour had drained from his face and his eyes showed clear signs of the corruption.

"_Cormac?!_" Alistair asked in disbelief. "I thought you… I thought you'd _died_?"

"At Ostagar? I almost did. The darkspawn overwhelmed us and I was struck by a genlock's bolt. Missed the rest of the battle. When I woke, everyone was dead."

Hawke frowned; whereas Alistair had clearly shown emotion at seeing the man again, this 'Cormac' betrayed little.

"I have had a long time to confront my grief." He told her, as if reading her thoughts, "I have left those ghosts behind me; I have a new purpose now."

"Cormac… what happened?"

The mage's milky eyes swerved to regard Alistair. "Such shame I felt, Alistair. That they had all died, while I lay on the ground. After I had burned their bodies, I fled to the Deep Roads, determined to fight my final battle against the Blight as a true Warden. But fate was cruel; I met with no darkspawn that could end my misery."

"You burned Duncan…?"

"I wandered for a long time, too long to contemplate, feeding myself on the spew of the Deep Roads whilst desperately seeking my redemption. At last it came. I met these dwarves… they revived me… and opened my eyes to my calling."

Hawke rolled her eyes. "_Why_ do lunatics always start like this?"

"I realised that Wardens are not only meant to _end_ Blights… we are made to _prevent_ Blights. If only _we_ could find these Old Gods before the darkspawn."

"What you say has some merit… but all of this… I don't understand."

"You will, Alistair."

"I swear, Alistair, if _you_ become a lunatic…" Hawke noted a twitch of irritation in the mage's face with some satisfaction.

"The histories speak of the seven Old Gods: Dumat, Zazikel, Toth, Andoral, Urthemiel, Razikale and Lusacan. Yet what failed to reach the ancient texts was the existence of an eighth Old God… or more accurately… Old Goddess… the only to have existed." Cormac took in their reactions before continuing; Alistair took in every word he said, his mouth wide open… the girl seemed tremendously unimpressed. It hurt him a little, that she would die for something she didn't even comprehend.

"An Old Goddess? But I've never heard…"

"She was a Goddess of great beauty and light to those who revered her. Niorune is the Goddess of Dreams… the Empress of the Fade."

"… you _can_ start making sense any time now…" The blonde frowned at him.

"You may or may not be aware that the Tevinter Magisters used to use dreams to control their flock and force their subjects into obedience. Eventually, Niorune could no longer tolerate the abuse of her realm and threatened to cast the magisters from it. The mages feigned obedience and earned the Goddesses' complacence.

"However, the mages conspired; they tricked Niorune and imprisoned her within a magical barrier, so that she may no longer impose her whims upon the Imperium."

"You're not about to tell me that the glowing ball above our heads is a floating Goddess are you?" The swordswoman asked reticently.

"That is only the barrier that contains her. She is within…"

Hawke sighed. "So the lunatic wants to free an ancient, monstrous power to wreak terrible vengeance upon the world. _Again_."

"Stupid girl," snapped Cormac. "You still don't understand, do you?"

Hawke returned his agitation with a steely gaze, "Forgive me… but I've heard too many of these cock-and-bull stories to put much stock in them… and being _perfectly _honest, you seem to be one archdemon short of a Blight…" Her eyes raised to the glowing ball above their heads, "except for the 'short of an archdemon' part apparently…"

Cormac observed her with a pity that made Hawke suddenly falter. Her stomach twisted. She had a feeling that she _really_ wasn't going to like what was about to be said.

"These dwarves have guarded her against the darkspawn, to ensure that she never becomes an archdemon. The bloodshed she would cause would be… unspeakable…. Her wrath would be unstoppable…"

"But I still don't understand, Cormac, what do you want of _us_?" Alistair asked warily.

"Not _you_, Alistair…" His eyes turned once again to Hawke. It made her skin crawl.

"The dwarves were unable to free her; they have never had the means to break the barrier surrounding her until my arrival… But even now, none of us can touch her, we are all affected by the taint… to touch her would…."

"Taint her…" Alistair finished. "But if this barrier has kept her from the dwarves, then how could the darkspawn…?"

"They have _emissaries_, my dear King…"

Alistair's eyes widened and then narrowed. "How did you…?"

"How could I _not_ know? All I get from these people is 'our King's a Warden, he'll come and sort you out…'"

"What 'people'?" Hawke's tone dropped to a dangerous tone.

Cormac observed them both once again. Their expressions had darkened. He hoped now they would understand the extent of his sacrifice. "I _needed_ people untainted by the spawn. Only those without corruption can hope to reach the Goddess…"

"Maker, help me…. Don't tell me…" Alistair shook his head, and his voice shook with it.

"Those villages ransacked near the Deep Roads entrances that you told me of…" Hawke turned to face him… "_weren't_ darkspawn raids?"

Cormac's expression didn't change. "With the Deep Roads less 'populated' due to the Blight, these dwarves were able to reach the surface to get the blood sacrifices I needed. We've come _so_ close… all we need is _someone_ able to survive the process."

"Wait… you're not suggesting…?" Alistair tensed, and moved protectively in front of Hawke.

"That is correct, Alistair, your friend will be the last piece of the puzzle. I was so blind before… all those people were weak! But your friend here… the strength in her blood will…"

"No. This is wrong. And I won't let you."

"I don't think you have much of a choice, Alistair. She already surrendered to my friends to save your life… I think it is quite clear what her decision will be when it comes to a choice between your life and hers…"

"You'll never succeed." The woman spoke up, "We didn't come here alone. My friends will come…"

"Your friends? The dwarf, the mages and the elf… that group?"

Hawke's heart stopped and her jaw clenched.

"A pause that says 'yes'. I suppose I better tell you now, my dear… they're all dead."


	11. A Quest for Salvation

Cormac shook his head. _So sad_, he thought.

He had watched the woman's steely expression crumble. He had seen hate in her eyes for a brief moment, before it faded to despair. He thought about how young she had looked, with her wide eyes and paled expression.

Such a small figure trapped in the midst of so much darkness. And now she was alone.

Her boisterous manner had disappeared, though he noticed that Alistair became much more assertive in the absence of her interjections. That had surprised him. He remembered the boy as the newest recruit. He had stumbled through his new role with a nervous energy that made the rest of them want to look after him. He stuttered, he stammered… he told horrendous jokes…

Cormac had not expected the battle-hardened Alistair that stood before him now. Not that it mattered. The Warden King was not of interest to him.

Cormac had explained to them that as soon as the young lady had taken the Goddess into her body, he would be the one strike her down…. ending a Blight before it could even begin. He told her that it would be a painful process, but it would have been cruel of him not to warn her, at least.

She had taken in all the information without showing much concern. She had only demanded one thing.

_"If I do this, let him go."_

Of course, Cormac had every intention of obliging her last request. But he remembered Alistair's impulsive side… he couldn't blame the younger man if he decided to seek revenge. After all, the mage had _seen_ the way the boy looked at her… Best to have a plan to deal with him, just in case.

"Your thoughts on our young King, Werner?"

"Useless to us, once we have her co-operation," the dwarf shrugged, idly sharpening a menacing knife against a small, portable whetstone. In spite of his relaxed stance, his voice sounded more like a growl. "I'll slit his throat afterwards."

"Fool." Cormac saw his companion's head snap up from his concentration. "Do you _want_ to bring half of Ferelden's army down on us? Not to mention whatever Wardens they've managed to assemble… who I'm sure would be _thrilled_ to hear about an entire clan of tainted dwarfs."

Werner held his gaze levelly. Cormac was keenly aware of the way the dwarf fondled the blade in his hand, running his thumb along its edge almost lovingly. Although he knew he was too important to be disposed of, it was still a faint relief when he dropped his gaze back to the whetstone.

"So what's your plan?"

Cormac thought for a minute. "We need to send him back to his people. And then we need to put as much distance between ourselves and this thaig as possible. I'm thinking Tevinter; the Magisters are sure to find your people of both use and interest."

"I still find myself curious about this… _coincidence_, Cormac. We wait for years beyond counting for someone strong enough to finally release my house from this duty… then when our salvation _finally_ arrives she is accompanied by not only two Wardens… but one of them you happen to know. Tell me, my mage friend… what am I supposed to think?"

Comprehension dawned on Cormac. _He thinks I'm setting him up. But why such suspicion? Unless _he _is planning something…_

"If I were planning anything, you think I'd have told you of the other Warden so we could have them killed?"

"… yes, you would have one killed… but you want us to return the other- a _witness_ no less- to his throne? So that he may command his troops to pursue us?"

"That's _why_ I suggest Tevinter… the Ferelden and Kirkwall laws have no sway there."

Werner began to sharpen his blade with more zeal. The ringing of metal set Cormac on edge. It had been a long time since he had _feared_ death… but that did not mean he wished to embrace it until his task was complete. "You think the Tevinter Imperium will welcome us with open arms? Just because we carry the taint?"

"Your family have served the Imperium's mission for centuries! Surely you will be welcomed as heroes?"

"Heroes…? Heroes return showcasing a dragon's head in their grip, a fallen General's breastplate in their possession… so I am lead to believe. Tell me, what are _we_ to return with after so long?"

The breath in Cormac's lungs stuck. "Werner… what are you getting at?"

"I'm saying that once the Goddess is in the girl's body she is trapped once again. Shall my family not return to their homeland with the trophy we have cared for for so long?"

"You want me to put the soul of an Old Goddess into this girl… and take her to the Imperium? There's no way to know if the body will survive that long."

"If we keep the girl alive during the ritual the Goddess may endure."

"This isn't what we agreed." Cormac protested.

"That was before you wanted to send a Ferelden Warden King back to the surface unharmed… Unless, of course, you haven't been honest about this little ritual of yours…?" The dwarf rasped.

"Fine. We'll play this your way Werner, but I can make no guarantees whatsoever that she will survive the process…"

"If you know what's good for you, you will…"

…..

"Full report _now_." Aveline ordered sternly.

The soldier nodded, "Guard Captain… we were attacked by a large number of darkspawn as we descended but we held them back. Once we had established each base, His Majesty and Serah Hawke went to check on 'Base Three'… the deepest thaig on the map."

"So far nothing unusual…" Aveline commented to Sebastian before returning her attention to the soldier. "So why this disarray? And where are Anders and Merrill… Hawke said that they were to man 'Base One'…"

"They followed the others to 'Base Three', Guard Captain… the news… we can only hope…"

"The news?"

"They… fell… Guard Captain, into a deeper road. Something was said about a trap… Serah Hawke and the King…"

"W_hy_ was this not reported to the Guard sooner?" Sebastian cut in, recognising the danger signs as the red-head's stance stiffened.

"… we sent word…"

"You sent a half dead boy who was barely able to keep his eyes open to report something of this import?" The woman snapped. "He couldn't tell me his _name_ let alone your position."

"… I apologise…"

"What attempt has there been for a rescue?" Sebastian frowned. Maker save him… he _knew_ something had been wrong. Perhaps if he had listened to his instincts more and pressed harder with Aveline they would have arrived in time to help. He could only pray that Hawke was still in one piece… yet as he watched the man's mouth flap helplessly his hope paled significantly.

Aveline's frown intensified. "There _is_ a rescue attempt…?"

"We were told to hold position… Hawke's people… they went in…"

"Maker's Breath!" The Guard Captain grunted. "Your King has fallen into the depths of the world and you haven't sent out your own search party?"

She cast a glance back to Sebastian who nodded. He trusted her to lead him in this. "Thank Andraste I had the wits not to worry Bethany with this before we left… this would drive her to distraction. I want four of your guards with me. We're going after them…"

….

Werner watched Cormac go and gave a rough grunt as he returned to sharpening his blade- how he craved for the day he could bury it in the mage's back. But his lust for blood would have to wait until the creature was freed and put in the girl's body.

Of course, he had been told that ridiculous story by the older dwarves in the thaig… about Niorune's incarceration and how the Tevinter Magisters had had to create a prison of the Goddess's own element to hold her.

But Werner didn't believe the stories… and Ancestors be damned- he didn't _care_.

What he _did_ believe was that the trapped Goddess… Spirit… _whatever_ it was would be of much better use in his possession than floating about his head.

Werner had heard its call for too long… _knowing_ that he would never reach the voice that sang to him every moment he lived had torn at his sanity… over the years it had made him hate it, but at the same time he knew he could not live without it.

It had been a lucky coincidence… finding Cormac… half dead from hunger and clearly severely unhinged by what he had seen on the surface. Werner's fellows had tried to kill him... to protect the Goddess, and he had been forced to stop them himself.

Simpering idiots. His kin were drooling and pathetic.

How _he_ had managed to retain such lucidity, Werner didn't know. All he knew was that he gave orders and the others saw them done.

And the spirit that had been beyond his reach for so many years would finally be in his grasp.

….

"Maker… these poor people… what could be responsible for this?" Sebastian breathed.

"There are no bodies, Sebastian." Aveline stood from her crouching position. "I've examined it thoroughly… we've no reason to believe that this blood is even _human_."

"But you can't be certain…?"

Aveline shook her head is frustration. "All I know is I can make out tracks… recent ones. Whatever we're headed towards, we're headed in the right direction… What?" She asked as Sebastian turned his head.

He listened carefully. _Rushed footsteps._

"…It seems we have company, Guard Captain…" He whispered.

She stiffened. "Where?"

"I'd say about…. Ten feet down the tunnel."

Aveline gave a meaningful look to the guards and signalled that two of them were to proceed forward… and that she would go with them. "Stay here." She told him quietly. "We'll go on ahead."

"Whatever you say."

As he watched the figures move silently into the dark, Sebastian took an arrow to his bow.

He tried to quieten his breathing and slow his heart. He had been in battle before true enough, but never had he been in a battle so _silent_.

The shuffling of the other two men was doing nothing to ease his peace. In fact, the way loudness of it was near deafening in the tunnel.

Sebastian trained his arrow.

Louder scuffles.

_Maker, it was coming closer. _

A rush of footsteps. So much faster than he would have expected.

The archer frowned. _Not ten feet away?_ What was this trickery?

Sebastian's faith in his skills wavered. His senses told him one thing… and his head told him another. For a foolish moment, he let his guard drop… and instantly regretted it as he noted a shadow move swiftly into his vision. Too close for accurate aim.

The breath caught in his throat as a sharp pain filled his chest. He fell backwards.

It moved so quickly… he just couldn't….

He heard a call, but it seemed so distant that he couldn't make out the words.

Sebastian's eyes closed as the cold, hard floor of the tunnel greeted his shoulders and then his lower back.

Was this truly his end? Would he not die beneath the Maker's sky?

There was a loud sounding of metal and the heavy thump of something hitting the wall beside him. "You'll face me! I stand for all of us."

In spite of the pain, Sebastian felt himself sigh in relief.

….

"You cannot expect me to accept this?"

"It would be much easier if you did… and much _quieter_…" Hawke sighed.

"This is _crazy_… I won't let you die for me." Alistair argued. "There's got to be _something_ we can do…"

"Short of wait here and accept our fate? I'm struggling to think of anything. And anyway look on the bright side, Alistair… you get to live and you _finally_ got me out of my armour."

"Yes… well, as much as seeing you in your underwear is undeniably pleasant I can't help but be distracted by your impending _doom._"

Hawke gave a small, dry laugh. "Well, you're probably the only one to see it… so just sit back and enjoy the view, my dear King."

"It's not a 'view' if it's going to disappear… it's a 'sight'… and believe it or not I've no interest in letting you disappear." Alistair said with determination.

He didn't know what hurt him more; the thought of her giving her own life to save his… or the way Hawke seemed to have completely given up.

She looked so small without her armour and weapons anyway, but the way she held herself made her seem even more vulnerable. She didn't look like _Hawke_; she looked like a woman who had lost everything and was in danger of losing herself. Although she still made jokes, her tone was flat.

He needed to bring her back.

And then they would have a hope of escape.

…


	12. Stone by Stone

"Alistair, stop it! You're going to kill yourself!" Hawke put a firm grip on the man's shoulder to call his antics to a halt. "You're trying to batter down a door that has probably stood since Tevinter held the Free Marches… without any _clothes_." She had been scolding him for so long. At first she had been angry, but now it had faded to something else.

"I don't care!" The man shrugged her hand away. "I'm getting us out of here… _both_ of us." He threw himself at the sturdy structure again and winced as he fell back, his undamaged hand fell to his now horrendously bruised side and shoulder.

The swordswoman felt something stir in the pit of her stomach and claw at her eyes.

More guilt.

He was hurting himself because of _her_. The others were dead because of _her_.

She would never hear another of Varric's stories, or try in vain to drink Isabella under the table. She would never see Merrill's fumbled attempts at building bridges, or watch Aveline blush and smile at Donnic's affections… or Maker help her, _pretend_ that she was listening when Sebastian began one of his sermons; Anders would never win his war, Bethany would never be free, and Fenris…

She recalled the way his stare had softened when he saw her, and the way he desperately tried not to smile when she cracked a joke in front of the others but it tugged at the corners of his mouth anyway… The way he had always been at her side as they fought, as if determined not to let her fall... and when she did he had always made damn sure she got back up.

He never said as much, but he had protected her without concern for himself or ever asking for thanks. Whether or not he had returned her feelings, these were things Hawke could not deny. These were memories that made her ache.

Now he was gone… they were all gone. All because she had abused their friendship and brought them down here to their deaths.

And now Alistair was willing to throw his life away too?

Hawke's eyes burned.

"Please stop." She requested gently. Her voice was coarse… her throat was tight. She cursed silently to herself.

She had not cried for Carver, she had mourned of course, but circumstances had not allowed for an outpour of grief.

But this time it was different. She was trapped in her own silence. She couldn't speak for fear of revealing her pain to Alistair, yet she couldn't stay wrapped in the quiet of her own thoughts… remembering how much she had had in her friends and to know that it was gone… it made her feel sick. All she could do was beg Alistair not to become one of the casualties that she had caused.

"You can't give up… not yet." The young King clambered to his feet, his stance tensed. She knew he was about to throw himself at the door again. And she would see him fall again… more bruised than before. And she would look on, and know that he was causing himself torment… because of _her…_

"Please stop!" She threw herself forward and clung to his arm. Hawke felt him relax a little, though not completely. She released her hold on him, though she did not distance herself. "Stop this, Alistair. They are letting you go, can you not be content with that?"

"I'll not leave you here to die…"

"You would see Ferelden without a King?"

"You would see a coward on the throne? Hawke, who _knows_ what they're summoning? They could unleash Maker knows _what_ on Thedas… and you're going to let them use you as a puppet?! You need to get hold of yourself."

Hawke was taken aback by his assertive demeanour, but she pushed her argument nonetheless. "Cormac said he would strike me down. I thought you were a Grey Warden…? This seems like a plan you should at least be considering…"

"No. I'm not letting a madman possess you with something we don't even understand so he can murder you!… It's not right! There's_ nothing_ right about this. We don't even know he's telling the truth…"

"You said that you know him." She challenged.

"I _knew_ him… Andraste! I don't even recognise what he's become. He's got the same nose but that's about it…" Alistair paused and sighed, as if recalling a distant memory. When he spoke again, he seemed reflective "He was a good man and a great Warden. Leaving him to this insanity is an insult to his name. I mean, did you hear how he kept going on about an Old Goddess…? I don't know what light is guiding him… but I know that I don't like it."

"You don't believe his story?"

"I don't know." Alistair shrugged. "I suppose anything's possible… I've seen enough to know that…"

He watched Hawke drop her gaze and she fell silent once more. He felt for her. To lose something you hold so dear was truly shattering… and he could see her suffering. It was as if she wore it in place of her armour.

He remembered how his heart had seemingly stopped beating when Flemeth had told him of Duncan's fate; if it hadn't been for Mahariel he probably would have fallen apart then and there. The Dalish Warden had pulled him through, he had been a brother when he had needed one. He had been Alistair's rock.

And who did Hawke have? Just him.

_She must have pulled the short straw. _

Alistair rested his hands on her shoulders and drew her to him. "Please… stay with me…" He pleaded.

To his surprised, she didn't pull away. In fact, she seemed to shake in his arms. It took the young King a moment to consider that the woman he held was crying.

Alistair suddenly became very aware that this time… _now_… there was no armour between them. He held her in all her vulnerability and pain, and this embrace was all he had to offer. An embrace that told her he understood her agony.

And that was all she needed right now.

…

"Ridiculous…! Mere _pebbles_ will not stop me…" The elf growled.

"They've completely blocked the path, you moron!" Anders snapped as he healed his own broken rib. He had summoned the barrier just in time to save them… but not without cost to his own health.

"One of us must be able to do something…?" Merrill interjected, though she aimed it at Varric and Isabella.

"We'll do something, Daisy… though I'll admit I'm not sure what, right now."

Merrill had never seen Varric look so serious, something about his drawn and bloodied face made her frightened. What if they delayed too long? What if something happened? What if she never saw Hawke again?

Anders had said about the Veil being thin here, and although it had taken her slightly longer to realise it, he was right. _So very right._

Every step she took into the deep had drawn her closer. It wasn't a spirit as she had experienced it… but she could feel its wordless summon ever growing. Yet it did not call to her like the others. It just _cried_. And its call made her blood turn to ice.

It made her skin crawl.

More than anything she wanted to run; to flee back the Keeper and beg for her to shield her First as she had done for so long.

But there was a fire in Merrill that kept her fear in check. Hawke was in trouble… she knew it in her bones; and the Dread Wolf take her, she would not leave this darkness until they were reunited and ready to walk under the open sky once more.

"Maybe you could use some of that blood magic you're so fond of?" She heard Fenris mutter disparagingly.

"It doesn't work like… oh…. I see." She paused as he shot her a venomous glare.

"The Veil is all but torn down here," the recovered healer stood and told them both sternly. "The slightest _hint_ of blood magic could rip it asunder. I don't even want to hear _talk_ of blood magic…"

"What rich advice from the biggest hypocrite in Kirkwall…"

"Fenris, Maker help me I've _told_ you…"

"Yes… you've told me you're not a blood mage; you've also told me that you're _not_ an abomination… you'll forgive me for being sceptical…"

"Well, even with magic off the table we still need to get through…" Varric thought aloud, "and I can't think of anything…"

"Maybe we should find some pickaxes…?" The Rivaini shrugged. "I don't see many other options."

"Other options, no," the dwarf agreed, "any major blasts could bring the entire tunnel down on us… _dammit_!"

Fenris grunted and began to tear at the smaller pebbles. Merrill watched him scratch at them furiously before trying his strength against a boulder almost as big as he was. The lyrium in his skin flared as he growled with the strain.

"Elf… what are you..?"

"We pull it apart…" he choked out, and the huge rock shifted slightly. "I'll tear down every tunnel, stone by stone down if I have to…!"

The dark haired elf sucked in a breath. She pulled her magic forward to shift the stone that resisted the swordsman. As it flew back into the dark of the tunnel behind them, she sensed Varric and Isabella dodge its path. Yet her gaze remained with her fellow elf… a man who had never disguised his hatred or mistrust of her… but now he seemed wide-eyed and surprised. Merrill supposed she could get used to a change of attitude, but she hadn't done it to find his approval… she was doing this to save someone who had never questioned her intentions or character.

As much as he had mistreated her over the years; as much as they were from completely different worlds, she and Fenris had one thing in common… their unwavering loyalty to the woman who had brought them salvation.

She would help him bring her home with no hope of thanks from him. She would do it for Hawke.

"I agree, stone by stone. Get out of the way, Fenris."

"And if the tunnel falls in on us?" Isabella queried, though her tone indicated that she already knew what the answer would be.

"Then it falls."

…..

"You could have kept him alive for questioning."

"I suppose I could have… but a dead scout can't report back." Aveline looked down on the dwarven corpse nonchalantly.

"He can't give us any information either." Sebastian pointed out.

"I'll admit, I'm as surprised as you are that he's not darkspawn… but I'm not wasting my time interrogating these sneaky bastards when we need to move. I'll get my answers from Hawke…"

The soldier to her right jumped five foot in the air when the first crash sounded.

"Another attack?" The archer cocked an arrow in his bow and took his stance.

Another bang thundered down the passage.

The Guard Captain stood and her hand fell to her sword instinctively, though she didn't brace herself for a fight. "No. it's too much noise… too clumsy."

"Then who…?"

Aveline raised her eyebrows to him. "Do you _really_ need to ask me that question?"

…..

Werner swore with a voice almost feral. _"Shit!"_

"You said they were dead?" Cormac listened to the pounding of stone against stone roar down the tunnels. They weren't immediately on them… but he knew it was only a matter of time.

"I know what I said." The dwarf snapped as he drew his blade. "Believe me though, they will be soon enough. And whichever one is the last standing… I'll drag the filthy bastard down here and slit his throat in front of the girl!"

"Perhaps we had best delay the ritual?"

Werner's milky eyes narrowed. "You bring Wardens to my home… and now you try to weasel out of the duty you have sworn to do?"

The mage tried to speak but the words stuck in his throat. "No, Werner." He managed to choke out. There was something about the dwarf that seemed… evil… it was the only way Cormac could describe it to himself. Werner had always been more bloodthirsty than his kin, but the Warden had never seen such a desire cause death. It chilled his blood.

"Because if you betray the Goddess…"

"What? No… we agreed… you swore we wouldn't wake her."

"We agreed we would put her soul in the girl."

"But…"

"You wanted to stop a Blight, didn't you? If the Goddess is sealed in the girl you've succeeded, haven't you? Your final battle… my Warden friend." Normally Werner would have taken more care in feeding his lies to Cormac… but time was running out now.

"I suppose…" Cormac hesitated… he seemed unsure. Werner fought not to curse. Would the mage betray him? He had come too far; he was too close to give in now. The voice would be his… and he would finally leave this tomb knowing that he would never be parted from its song.

Those down the passage to the right would be dead shortly. But what if someone got passed him? What if they planned an ambush? He needed to think. He needed to make sure whatever help arrived would arrive in vain.

"Start the ritual." The dwarf demanded. "Quickly… before they can ruin everything. We will not risk the Goddess falling to the darkspawn or to unclean hands."

"She must not fall to the darkspawn."

"Good. Now I'll go and see to dealing with our new…"

Werner was cut off by a deep voice that echoed down the tunnels. It called out again and again and only became louder. "Hawke!"

Other voices joined his.

Werner pulled another dagger loose.

They would be silenced soon enough.


	13. Battle Lines

My apologies for the delay in updates, was just the small problem of me going on holiday :)

My thanks for all the kind reviews/follows/favourites, I hope this chapter is worth the wait :)

* * *

"Hawke…." Alistair started, cutting through the silence that had settled between them. She had been so lost in her thoughts he had found it difficult to intrude, but time was running out- a fact that the Warden King was painfully aware of.

She turned to him with a calm he found absolutely baffling. "Kestra." She told him after a few moments, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Kestra?" He blinked.

"That's my name. I _was_ saving the big reveal for someone else; but… well… let's just say you're not a bad second choice." She gave a tired smile.

"Hawke…"

"I _told_ you, call me Kestra." She mimicked the tone he had used when he had insisted the same of her.

Alistair sighed. He could tell she was trying to avoid the subject with humour… after all, he was the king of that defence mechanism… and a country.

"Fine _Kestra_, you're talking like you've given up again. I thought we'd agreed we'd at least _try_ to escape?"

"No, _you_ talked about it… at some length I might add… _I_ said nothing of the sort."

He observed her. "I am _very_ stubborn."

"Either that or you're deaf, because you certainly don't listen to a word I say."

"You just said it yourself… you've not said _anything_."

"A silence that tells you all you need to know." She sighed when his concerned frown did not shift. Her voice was tight, almost _broken._ "Alistair, please consider… even if we _could_ escape, what am I supposed to return to?"

He faltered. "Erm… your house?"

"Not _where_ you dense bastard, **_what_**?" The volume and anger in her voice rose.

It sent a chill through Alistair, he had never seen Hawke so openly display her emotions… but maybe realising her ire rather than her despair would make her more open to ideas of returning to the surface and of fighting her current fate. "My friends lie dead in this tunnel… and the only one who escaped my stupidity will have to be told that her lover is dead... by the person that got him killed. Do you _really_ think that I can just waltz back?"

"I think you _could_, I think you don't want to."

Hawke sniffed. "Well, you just had to go on and _say_ it didn't you? I don't want to die, but I'm not sure I have the right to walk away from this without them. We came here as a team, as friends…" Her head dropped and her hair hid her expression as her voice trailed away.

Alistair shook his head, "You're blaming yourself again." His tone softened and he rested his hands on her shoulders to offer comfort. Although her stance did not relax, he could feel her calm slightly. "I'll admit, this isn't easy; and I _know_ how hard it is to accept loss, I know that more than anyone. But the dead are departed and you _cannot_ bring them back…" he paused when he felt her suck in a heavy breath, _Maker!_ He hadn't meant to make her cry! "Well, you _can_… but then I _suppose_ you'd be a blood mage or a maleficar… so I suppose you wouldn't _really_ be upset about someone dying if you're all 'mwahahaha' about things like that anyway…"

Hawke raised her head to meet his gaze; and an eyebrow to show her utter bemusement. Alistair felt his blush return when he realised that there were no tears to be seen.

"Well, I'm just _saying _that…"

"Alistair."

"Hawke?"

"Shut up."

…

"You caught up to us very _quickly_, Aveline." Merrill said admiringly.

"We _were_ held up by a cave-in, Daisy…" Varric began his protest.

"That and you'd think you had taken the time to redecorate the tunnel walls, with the amount of clues you left behind…" Aveline shot a look at the two rogues.

"An interesting idea!" The dwarf chuckled, "I think the Elf would use the blood and tears of Tevinter mages…" he offered cheerfully, ignoring Aveline's obvious admonishment.

"I think the _mage_ would use his _own_ blood and tears." Fenris muttered.

Anders glared. "Oh…" Fenris raised an eyebrow in expectation, "_piss off_." Anders added eventually, clearly not happy with the quality of his witty response.

"Hawke!" The swordsman turned away and called out to their missing ally once more.

Varric winced. "I _wish_ you wouldn't do that… they're going to know that we're here…"

"Let them know." The elf snorted. "I'll kill them all myself."

"You don't want us to help you then?" Merrill asked, sounding puzzled and a little hurt.

"Kitten…" Isabella began, "do you remember that chat we had about thinking about things before we say them?"

"I remember it well," the elven mage nodded, "what of it?"

"… Nothing…" the pirate sighed eventually. Now was not the time for further lessons in conduct.

"Whether we're shouting or not, we shouldn't linger." Sebastian interjected, eager for them to press onwards.

"Agreed." Aveline interjected firmly. "But first I would like a word with my fiancée… _alone_." She added when Isabella didn't move.

The Rivaini rolled her eyes and started after Merrill.

"Not too far." The Guard Captain warned. "We need to be together in case there's a fight.

"Of course not," Isabella laughed lightly, "I want to be close enough to hear all the saucy details."

"…get out of my sight before I beat you to death with one of your own oars."

They waited until the Rivaini's swaying hips had disappeared into the dark before embracing each other.

"Aveline…" Donnic began, but she held a finger to his lips silencing him.

"Hush, love; not now. We can talk after we find Hawke."

"But I thought…" He gestured with his head after their companions.

"I know… but I've been so… _worried_… I just wanted…"

"And you couldn't just show how happy you are to see me in front of them?" Donnic grinned at her blush.

The red-haired woman cocked an eyebrow. "I'm paid to make people like _them_ scared shitless."

"This is a point." He admitted.

…..

The door swung open and the two figures in the room looked up at him expectantly.

"It is time." Cormac told them.

"This is wrong!" Alistair protested fiercely, though instinctively recoiling from the dwarven soldiers that marched in to fill the room.

"Alistair, please, this will be over with soon." The pale Warden soothed, "you'll have served your nation and will return to a surface world spared the ravages of another Blight. Do not sully this woman's noble sacrifice with your selfish desires…"

"Noble?" Hawke laughed bitterly. "I'm not sure what choice you've given me in the matter." Her expression was stern, though she did not resist the grip that led her away.

"It is a worthy cause…"

"No! I won't…" The King began angrily.

"Foolish." Cormac cut him off, as one of the guards fingered his weapon menacingly.

"Alistair, please…"

"**Hawke!**" A deep voice echoed faintly, but unmistakably.

The figures in the prison stood silent for a moment.

Cormac's heart thudded, and his gaze lifted to the blonde haired woman who now stood very still. He hadn't considered that the voice of possible salvation would reach her before the end. Her friends were closing in with impressive pace, and the vast door between them was now opened.

Her dwarven captor looked to him for instruction when she refused to move. She tore her arm from the grip that had guided her, but otherwise stayed very still.

Alistair tensed as well, sensing the battle at hand. Her demeanour had changed; rather than indifference, her audible breathing and stiff stance exuded cold fury.

"Well… it seems _someone_ has been telling lies." The blonde met the mage's gaze, and he felt himself shudder at what he saw in her eyes. "I hope you enjoyed the last little porky you told… because I assure you it will be your last."

…..

"Vishante!"

Fenris cursed, narrowly ducking the crossbow bolt that came hurtling from the darkness. Breaking into a running charge, he smoothly unsheathed the blade from his back, scanning the gloom ahead for the archer. "More enemies approach!"

He was dimly aware of Varric's answering shot flying past, as well as Isabella catching him up. The Rivaini was fast, for a human. A hastily stifled cry of pain from ahead told him where the bastard was. A second later, the enraged elf had buried his blade deep into the dwarf's yielding flesh and was already looking for the next would-be assailant to vent his frustrations on.

In an uncharacteristic show of timing, a flash of light from one of Merrill's spells lit up nine more dwarfs, weapons drawn and ready. A second blast quickly afterwards captured the image of Isabella, cartwheeling acrobatically over one of their attackers, one dagger buried hilt-deep in his neck, the other already seeking another target.

Fenris selected his next victim, a ragged-looking thing with a thin, wispy beard and a look of surprised disbelief at the sudden turn of the tide. As he lurched forward, spinning his sword over his head for a downwards cleave, a third, brighter flash illuminated the twin forms of Aveline and Donnic, their heavily armoured weight crashing full force into two of the enemies, as Merrill's fireball exploded in the middle of the largest concentration, felling three dwarfs in a blaze.

A heartbeat later, Fenris felt the spray of blood landing on his face, revelling in the satisfaction of killing another of the bastards that had taken her, and looked up to see Isabella, her second opponent already falling, chasing after the final dwarf, who was running.

"Isabella!" he shouted, anger giving his voice an edge that made the Rivaini falter in her chase. "This one is _mine._"

He was already away, his feet moving with a speed that surprised even himself, but the dwarf had too much ground, and knew the tunnels too well. If he lost him, he'd never find him again. Cursing, he dropped his sword, the echoing clatter of metal on the stone floor no doubt alerting his quarry to the fact that he was now unarmed. _No matter._

The loss of the extra weight gave him enough of a boost to close the gap, but before he could reach out and grab him, the dwarf turned around, a wicked-looking dagger clutched in his hand and a mocking grin plastered on his face.

Fenris' anger reached a crescendo and his lyrium tattoos flared into life. With a guttural roar that echoed down the tunnel, he batted the dwarf's knife-hand to one side and slammed his fist squarely into his nose. There was a heavy thud as the shorter man hit the ground and then Fenris was on him, straddling his chest and punching him twice more in the face.

Fading his arm, the elf reached into the dwarf's chest and gripped tightly around his heart. "_Where is she?!_"


	14. Heart's Call

Thank you for all you reviews, your kind words mean so much. I hope you like this chapter!

* * *

Hawke felt the enemy's nose crunch under the weight of her elbow as she slammed it into his face. The dwarf stumbled backwards, clutching the source of the flowing blood and released her from his grip. She then ploughed her fist into the cheek of the assailant before her and he crumpled to the floor.

Hawke was no fool; she knew they were outnumbered... not to mention unarmoured and unarmed. It was only a matter of time before she and Alistair would be overwhelmed by the superior numbers of the enemy.

But until the _second_ she could no longer lift her arms, she would make the bastards pay. She would give no quarter.

Not until they were together again.

"Hawke! To your right!"

Hawke dodged the huge hammer that was aimed for her and stepped into range as the dwarf struggled with his balance. She tackled her attacker to the ground and planted a few heavy fists until his struggling ended.

She got to her feet again quickly and reached for the hammer. It wasn't her usual weapon of choice, but she had no doubt it would do more damage against their sturdy armour than her now bleeding hands.

Hawke felt the muscles in her back tense and swung the weapon around in a full circle. The trembling she felt on the handle told her she had flung more than one of her attackers a few feet.

Hawke looked to Alistair, now armed with a longsword and struggling to hold his own against the number that surrounded him.

She moved to his aid. Within a few swings several of them lay still at the King's feet. "I'm sure the great Warden King can do better than _that_." She teased as they pressed their backs together, ready to cover each other.

"I'm still only human!" Alistair protested.

"… My_ mother_ could do more damage with a kitchen knife… a _blunt_ one." She swung the hammer once more and noted the crunch of armour and bone with some satisfaction.

"To be fair, I wouldn't trust your mother with anything sharp."

"Enough of this!"

A light exploded, and before Hawke could register what had happened she was lying on the damp stone floor with every muscle she had throbbing with intense pain.

She sensed Cormac approaching, his footsteps lighter than those of his dwarven henchmen. Hawke didn't know where her hammer had fallen, but what she _did_ know was how much she wanted to beat the mage to a pulp with her bare hands. But as she tried to launch her attack, her body refused to co-operate.

Fear gripped her.

The dark haired man knelt beside her; the expression of pity that curved his features did nothing to quell the helpless woman's murderous intentions.

He leaned closer and Hawke felt her stomach lurch. Maker! What was he…?

The blonde's breath hitched in her chest when he reached out to stroke her hair.

"Don't touch her!"

Cormac ignored Alistair. "Please, can't you see? Your sacrifice will save lives."

"So will putting an end to _you_." She hissed. "Maker knows how many innocent lives you have taken because of this madness."

"All necessary." The mage protested. "All those people…. Their blood, their lives were all so we could achieve the greater good. Selfless sacrifice is something that Wardens come to know well…"

"Bullshit! I don't see _your_ corpse on the floor."

Cormac shook his head with a sad smile. "You just don't understand." His hand fell to her cheek, "But how could you? I promise you that you're about to become part of something greater." His head raised to the dwarves still left standing. "Spread out." He ordered. "I'm taking her to the chamber. There are to be _no_ interruptions… do I make myself clear?"

Hawke tried to struggle as the mage lifted her and began towards the door, but her body still wouldn't listen to her desperate cries.

"No, stop!" She heard Alistair call.

"You may as well say your farewells, Alistair, because if you see her again she will not be the woman you know now."

"Please, Cormac…"

Hawke closed her eyes. She was sure she heard a sob break from the fallen King. "No…"

Hawke's heart pounded fiercely. As quickly was her thoughts raced, she couldn't think of what to do. She couldn't move. She couldn't fight. She was completely at her captor's mercy.

The blonde sucked in a breath and called the only name that she could think of. The name of the person she could not bear to never see again.

"Fenris!"

…..

Werner fought to control his heavy breathing.

No doubt about it. Those were lyrium tattoos branded into the elf's skin. A rare commodity indeed… and unique to the Imperium.

He had never seen them himself, of course… only read about them in the tomes his people guarded.

But the arrival of a Tevinter native could only herald one thing… the Imperium had come to reclaim the Goddess.

Well he wouldn't let them have her.

A nagging in the back of his mind told him to be calm. He didn't _really_ believe the voice to be such a divine entity… but the adrenaline that pounded through his blood drowned any thoughts of reason. There was only determination, conviction and blood lust.

This had all been a set-up, it had to have been. First the perfect vessel, then two more Wardens and now a mercenary from Tevinter itself?! Cormac must have something to do with had to.

Had he been planning to steal her from him all this time?! Just waiting until he could send word to the right people, just waiting for time alone with her? With an adequate vessel?

Werner's blood ran cold. It had been a long time since he had known such fear.

He had all but handed Cormac his prize and then turned his back, allowing him to do as he pleased.

The dwarf broke into a run.

Cormac was no doubt putting the soul into the girl's body as he wasted time here contemplating.

Well now, the tables were turned.

Werner was on to the mage's plan.

He would wait and watch whilst the soul was pulled from its prison and placed in its new packaging. Then he would kill Cormac and take his prize.

They would be together finally. And Werner would ensure that it didn't end.

…

"I don't mean to kill you." Cormac assured the young woman in his arms. He felt her tense. She wouldn't understand, but he owed it to her to at least try. "This is fate, don't you see? The Goddess chose _you_ and me to be her champions. Her soul will complete you, and then I will take you home."

"I'm not sure my mother will open the door to an abomination and a psychotic mage, to be honest." The blonde remarked glibly.

Cormac held her tighter. He felt so close to her. Soon, _soon_ she would comprehend the burden he had carried for so long. "Can you imagine how beautiful you will be, carrying such a spirit within your heart? I will return you to Tevinter, and there you will complete your destiny."

He felt her shift and when he looked down he met her steady gaze. Cormac swallowed, suddenly aware of the loveliness he held so close. "I knew it…" She said softly and he gave her a smile. "You are _actually_ as mad as a box of frogs…"

Cormac sighed in aggravation, though he felt relief wash through him as he turned the corner and the calming blue light of the Goddess filled his vision. His placid thoughts were interrupted when he noticed the woman's head did not turn once, not even to acknowledge the shining light that would soon fill her heart.

He followed her gaze to the pile of human bones at the side of the hall. "As I said, sacrifices are required for the greater good."

"As _I_ said, your corpse should be lying next to theirs…" Hawke took in the sight of the smaller bones. _Maker_… children as well?!

"My death was not the Goddess' will." Cormac replied smoothly.

"There's time." The blonde replied ominously as he set her down at the table.

…..

"It came from down here!" Anders reported, looking down yet another dank and dark passage. The call had undoubtedly been Hawke's. Although he was beyond relieved to finally hear her voice amidst the darkness, his heart still pounded. For Hawke to call out like that… she must really be in trouble…

"We _know_ that." Fenris snapped, pushing forward swiftly though he took time to slow as he asked his question. "Are you fully healed yet, mage?"

The blonde mage was more than a little taken aback by the uncharacteristic display of concern from his former rival for Hawke. "I am much better. Though I must confess I didn't know that you cared…?"

"I don't. I just need you ready to heal Hawke." The elf responded bluntly.

"… _why_ did I _bother_ asking?" Anders grumbled to himself. "Call back Isabella and Varric," he turned to Aveline and Donnic. "We've found the right road."

"Hawke, hold on…" He heard the swordsman whisper.

…..

Cormac felt the warm blood flow slowly down his arms, leaving a familiar sticky trail that he'd come to associate fondly with power.

It had not taken long to silence the young woman. She was now almost perfectly still, lolling gently in the air like a child's discarded doll. She hung in front of the goddess, the soft blue light of his holding spell adding a perfect new texture to the more vibrant light of Niorune's prison.

It had always been difficult to manage the complex currents of magic entailed in this specific ritual, but the mage could feel something different this time. It was easier, for one thing. With the other subjects, it had felt like trying to juggle a camp full of swords one handed, but with Hawke the various elements of the spell just seemed to fall into place.

The magic was working, he was certain. The feeling was euphoric. Like every fibre of his being danced in harmony with the swirls of light surrounding them.

The mage suddenly felt his stomach lurch. It was as if someone had stuck a pin into his spine. The flow of mana was being constrained by something…

His eyes rose to the motionless body in front of him.

Could she resist such a spell? She was no mage, she had no natural talent for such things. He ran through what he knew about her in his head, and found nothing to indicate where she might have learned such a trick. Then he thought about Alistair, and it hit him. The boy had been a Templar before he joined the Wardens, that was why Duncan had been so eager to recruit him. The young King must have shown her a few tricks…

It was futile, of course… but the mental strength with which she strived was undoubtedly impressive. It was no wonder Niorune had chosen her.

Collecting his wits, Cormac hefted his knife and forced it deeper into his arm than he'd ever had to before, revelling in the crimson tide that sprayed forth, and focused more of his magic into the spell.

The newfound power flowed over her resistance like water over a jagged rock. No matter how hard he forced it, he could not erase it, but it mattered not. She could block only a small fraction of the magic; she must know that it was hopeless. She would give in eventually. Erosion took time.

Hawke… Niorune… they were one and the same…

Cormac sucked in a sigh of relief as that lucid ball finally began to descend toward the woman's body. After years trapped down here in the darkness, constantly hearing Her voice frustratingly out of reach… it felt like he was coming home… they would be together…

Excitement over-ruling his better judgement, he pressed out more blood. She would not escape him… she would be his….

"What a surprise… _another_ blood mage."

Shock jolted his concentration from the spell, and Cormac turned, cursing. The white haired elf met his gaze with a look of fury that turned his veins to ice. "I would apologise for interrupting… but you have something that is _mine_…"


	15. Tempest

Sorry, have had to re-upload... for some reason it went funny...!

Hope you enjoy now it's defunked...

* * *

Fenris watched Cormac's expression shift from surprise to anger, but couldn't help notice the small flicker of fear that betrayed him. Before the elf could take more than a single step towards the mage, a pale light surrounded him to form a barrier spell, and he called for his guards. Fenris' brandings flared into life as multiple squat shadows flowed into the room from a plethora of hidden entrances, rushing into the space between Cormac and Hawke's party. Fenris knew he was outnumbered, but anger drove him forward.

"You think this will save you?" He shouted, "I will wade through an ocean of blood to take your head."

Without hesitation, Fenris charged into the wall of flesh and steel arrayed before him, catching the over-confident dwarves completely by surprise. By the time the first of his opponents reacted, four of them lay dead.

The fifth had enough wits about him to raise his shield to parry the blow, but Fenris simply lashed out with his fist, catching the shorter man squarely in the chin and knocking him to the ground. Another dwarf used the opportunity to swing for the elf's back, but a crossbow bolt found its mark in his neck with a soft thud.

Moments later, Fenris was aware of his comrades joining the fray, the quickly silenced screams of Isabella's victims twisting into a sick harmony with the sound of steel against steel, punctuated by the occasional crunch of bones snapping under the weight of Aveline and Donnic's shields.

The elf soon found himself lost in the moment, revelling in the grim satisfaction of seeing his enemies fall to the ground, feeling their blood on his skin. The light of several magical fires played across his form, highlighting the gore that covered him, before casting him in shadow so that only the bright blue of his lyrium brands was visible… like a devil in the dark.

How dare that bastard touch her? How _dare_ he think he could take her from him?

She was his rock, the one constant in his life... apart from the call for vengeance, her warmth was all that he knew. It had kept him comforted as he lay alone at night… when he had ached to have her next to him…

All he cared about was the woman levitated in the mage's spell and killing the arrogant fool who had kept her from him.

A sudden, brilliant flash of light accompanied a particularly loud explosion, and Fenris looked up to see twin spells from Anders and Merrill crash into Cormac's shield. His heart slowed as the mage's barrier shattered. It was only a matter of time. Once the distance was closed, he would end this, and Hawke would be returned to him.

With a triumphant cry, the elf charged into his current opponent, connecting solidly with his shoulder to send the dwarf sprawling, and took off running.

Cormac's expression changed from an expression of complete concentration to unadulterated panic as his self-control left him. The desperation in his eyes was plain to see as he fired spell after spell at Fenris, but his attacks were unfocused, even wild, and easy to avoid. Behind, the elf was dimly aware of the screams of a dozen dwarves fallen prey to the mages' violent outburst.

…

The sounds of battle stirred Alistair from his melancholy. _This was his chance_. He would take advantage of this disarray and overwhelm the distracted guards.

He had nursed this plan since Cormac had walked out of the room with Hawke. A plan so _ingenious_ he was amazed that he'd managed to think of it… It's not like battle tactics were his forte or anything… particularly tactics thought of under _pressure._

That was why he kept Mahariel around, after all. Brains were the lanky elf's business… he was just there to look Kingly, kiss babies and make inappropriate jokes.

Well, not this time.

Alistair stumbled to the locked door and propped himself against it, angling himself awkwardly so he could just about see the guard through the thin slit in the metal.

"Guard! Guard!"

The armoured dwarf paid him little heed, clearly listening intently to the clashing of metal and the wails of pain.

But the Warden King had anticipated some hardship.

"GUARD! I NEED HELP… NOW!"

The dwarf was stirred from his reverie and Alistair heard the booted footfalls quickly come to a halt beyond the door and watched the shadow lengthen.

"Speak." The gruff voice commanded.

"I have… erm… a stomach ache! And… um… a fever! Seriously! I am _sooooo_ burning up in here…"

No response.

The young King began to fear the worst, but could the dwarf _really_ be on to him so quickly? He didn't seem like the sharpest arrow in the quiver…

"I don't think that Cormac will be too pleased if you let his former favourite recruit die from illness…"

Alistair heard a bolt undone, and when he looked down he realised that a small section of the door had fallen away. He kneeled cautiously to come face to face with the milky eyes dwarf who stared at him with indifference.

"Will bring Cormac…"

"No!" Alistair exclaimed, suddenly panicked at this unexpected spanner in the works, "you _must_ let me out… I'm… scared of the dark…."

Silence.

The shuffling told the Warden that the dwarf was moving away. Without thinking, he shoved his arm through the gap before the guard could close it again and felt his hand grip the throat. He pulled the squat man forward aggressively and felt the door tremble as his head connected violently with the metal.

The dwarf's body became limp after a few repetitions of the same motion.

Alistair sighed, he struggled to fit his other arm through to grope for the other man's belt, feeling for the cool metal that would afford him his freedom… he briefly thanked the Maker for Mahariel not being here to witness this… or Hawke… he'd never hear the end of it.

After a few moments, he cursed. No keys? He hadn't anticipated that. He would have to think quickly.

He let the figure slide to the floor before pressing himself to the door once more. "Guard! Guard! Come quickly… this man has fallen over… and… broken his neck… **_accidentally_**!"

…..

Aveline hissed her curse loudly.

_Damn Fenris! Charging on off ahead… Maker, what was he thinking?!_

Of course, she knew _exactly_ what he was thinking… but that did nothing to ease her anxiety. They should have stayed together, fought from a position of unity… and it didn't help when their hardest hitter had run off beyond the protection of their healer and right into the enemy's arms.

She brushed another of her attackers from her shield and slashed with her sword. He fell back, and the Guard Captain knew instinctively that he wouldn't be a problem anymore. But that was more than could be said for the dark haired mage who still summoned spells and the white haired man that charged him with so little regard for his own safety.

There was a faint tremble, and Aveline's breath hitched. She glanced towards Cormac just in time to see Fenris thrown backwards by a shockwave. The elf was bowled back into the fray, landing roughly on a pair of dwarves in a tangle of limbs.

He was clearly disorientated as he clambered to his feet, clutching his head to gather his thoughts. He hadn't the time. Several swift figures descended upon the man… though he didn't seem to see them.

Aveline surged forward, bashing the first out of the way with her shield, slicing the second through the throat. The Guard Captain held her stance defensively in front of the struggling elf. "Donnic!" She roared as she blocked a third attack.

Before she knew it, her lover was beside her, his shield locked next to hers to create more of a wall, fortifying their defence.

She felt another tremor as a second shockwave ran through the air, but this time several of the enemy were repelled. Anders hefted his staff beside her. "Your plan, Guard Captain?"

The red-head grunted as she assessed the situation. Hawke was suspended just opposite the mage. If they could just reach him… they would reach her…

She knew that she and Donnic would have to provoke most of the fighters around them… the ranged fighters could never get close enough, Isabella didn't have the constitution to survive a direct hit from spells of such strength… as much as she resented it after his reckless behaviour, he was the only one…

"Merrill… I want every spell you have doing damage to that bastard, Anders… heal Fenris.." She felt the blonde mage tense… no doubt he was giving her either a glare or a look of confusion. It didn't matter as long as he did as she said. "Fenris, charge that jumped up little shit until you can get close enough to separate his head from his shoulders…"

"I can do that…" The recovered elf's tattoos flared with renewed energy as the soft light of the ex-warden's spell settled on him.

"Varric, Isabella, Donnic… we're going to make the rest of them pay. Give no quarter!"

"A plan I can get behind…" The Rivaini chuckled, "stay close to Anders, Kitten… I won't be gone long…"

….

Cormac just couldn't understand it. It had all been going so well… the only inconvenience had been the deluded elf, but he had been knocked into place quickly. So why now did he watch his warriors fall at such a pace when the enemy had made no movement to take ground? He tried to recall a healing enchantment… but they would have little effect on such entities as tainted dwarves.

In any case, they were fodder. Cormac knew that. They were merely the obstacle between the saboteurs and his goal… wasting magic helping them would be… counter-productive. But the speed at which they fell was making him beyond uneasy.

He still kept half his mind focused on the possession ritual… but he could not force himself to tear his eyes away from the battle.

Cormac's heart stammered in his chest when the white elf once again burst from the lines. His sword ready in his hands, his expression as determined as ever.

Cormac felt true fear. Fear that he had come so far and would fall at the final hurdle? Fear that he would fail the Goddess and her Champion?

No.

He was afraid at what this man would do to him when he got hold of him.

Without thinking, he took the knife and applied it to his wound once more. Adrenaline dulled any pain he might have felt and the trickle of blood began to flow with more vigour down his arm once more.

Cormac channelled the energy of his fallen henchmen, their bodies trembled on the ground, illuminated for a moment… a soft light rose from each corpse and rushed towards the mage; Cormac felt revived, with his arm almost fully healed and his energy restored.

With renewed vigour, he pressed the blade to his skin. As fresh blood spilled forth he twisted the deep red hues around his hands, deciding what pain to inflict on the fool who dared to challenge him so openly and so frequently.

The spell that flew towards the elf hit him square in the chest.

The swordsman faltered… his body clearly wracked with pain judging by the pained groans. He made no move forward.

The Warden mage took some satisfaction from the grisly sight. His smugness was soon washed away however, when a fierce pressure forced him backwards and a blue light crashed into the spell that tortured his victim.

The pale swordsman was released to the ground, panting fiercely… though it didn't take him long to collect his sword and continue his charge. The mage sucked in a breath, trying to swiftly decide on the next course of action.

Cormac's entire body suddenly jolted with a pain that shook him to his core. It tore the air from his lungs and the vision from his eyes for a moment.

_… what… what __**was**__ that?_

A brilliant white crackled into vision. Not from any mage's spell… from… Niorune?

No longer a lucid, comforting blue… staggeringly bright cracks burst from the ball… radiating a light so pure it hurt his eyes.

Cormac staggered back, shuddering as a strange cold washed over him. Strangely, he wondered if anyone else had noticed the terrifying shift in the Fade.

As he glanced down, he noticed that all but two figures watched the Goddess erupt with anything but a look of utter fear.

He felt his power falter, and the spell he had cast to hold Hawke faded. The blonde woman was released from the light and fell to the ground.

Almost in slow motion, a look of surprise and horror crossed the charging elf's features. He cast aside his sword and broke into a sprint, heading straight for her. He caught her of course, and cradled her close to himself. He stroked her hair and held her motionless body to his chest.

He didn't look away from her once.


	16. From the Ground, Light

Apologies for the very late update. A sudden bereavement left me without inspiration for a while... but now I'm back and kicking arse. Let's get this show on the road.

I hope this chapter is ok, and I hope he likes it too...

* * *

Fenris' relief and fear were in equal measure. On one hand, the woman he had worried himself to insanity over for the past few days was now cradled in his arms and bore no grievous injury… on the other hand, bones that had lain still at the sides of the room now shuddered to life, and monstrous figures formed from the shattered beams of fallen light. And Hawke still didn't move.

As ill reasoned as he knew it was, that was his biggest concern.

The small blonde woman lay still in his embrace and made no motion, and the now corporeal demons were closing in.

Fenris didn't even have the composure to curse; he had dropped his sword metres back, he couldn't be sure where… and he counted at least five Rage Demons already formed and he was sure he could see the massive bulk of a Pride Demon twisting into life.

His eyes fell to the lifeless body in his arms. Even if she was alive, how could he hope to defend her…?

Spells from Merrill's staff shot passed him, as arrows thundered forward towards their targets… though they seemed to do little to deter to encroaching flaming beasts. To his immense relief, Aveline and Donnic were soon beside him. Donnic dropped a large sword in front of the elf with a heavy thud. Fenris almost smiled when he recognised _The Brother's End. _It had been a gift - from the woman whose life now depended on his skills with that very blade.

"Keep Hawke safe, Fenris." The Guard Captain commanded with absolute authority, as the lovers raised their shields and blades. "If anything happens to her, my guards may never find your body… that's all I'm saying…" The cacophony of their bulky armour chorused with impassioned battle cries as the couple charged forward to confront the first of the demons.

"Then let this stain upon the honour of mages be cleansed! His Blood magic has torn the veil asunder!"

Fenris turned to see Ander's eyes a lucid blue and his staff crackling with light of the same hue. It was not the first time he had been forced to endure the healer as 'Justice'… though for the first time the elf kept his stern judgement to himself. Be it from Tevinter or mage, he would not turn away any power in this battle…

"Kitten, stay with me." He heard the Rivaini instruct sternly. "We're going for the fiery minx on the left. On me, now!" A soft noise, Merrill sweeping past him and a heavy shudder from one of the fiends before him told him which target the pair had chosen.

The swordsman had barely had chance to properly assess the situation before he felt the grasp of someone shaking him to action and the illuminated figure of Anders darted into the ill lit darkness in front of him.

"Get up, Elf!" He heard the dwarf grunt, "The bastards aren't just in front of us, you know!"

Fenris became aware of a shadow next to him and instinctively reached for his blade with one hand, stubbornly holding Hawke with the other. He parried the clumsy attack and stabbed the steel into the bare ribcage right where the heart would have once been. The bones toppled to the ground helplessly.

More enemies approached. The swordsman felt his back tense and he readied his stance as much as he could… but there was only so much he could do one handed. "Varric, can you take her?!" The consistent sound of bolt after bolt being fired made Fenris suspect he already knew the answer.

"_Take_ her?! Elf! Her _breastplate_ is about as tall as I am… how _exactly_ do you want me to 'take her'?!"

"If you don't want her, just say!" Reluctantly, the elf let her slide from his grip and took his blade hilt into both hands. He swung fiercely at the skeletal figures. He was surprised at how much of his strength it took to knock them down.

"Rich advice coming from _you_, my broody friend." The dwarf's voice was becoming wearied. The battle hardened elf knew that sign. The enemy was closing in behind him. He shot a longing look towards the rest of the party but they were moving in to engage in other battles. "Choirboy! How about it?" Varric intruded on his thoughts.

The archer scowled from his position covering the rear. "I'm a little _busy_ here, Varric…."

The white-haired swordsman cursed. The battle had seemed to be turning… the only thing that had stood in their way mere moments before had been the Blood mage…

_…the Blood mage… _

Fenris' eyes darted to the arch on which the maleficar had positioned himself.

So brazened before, so confident of victory. But now only shadows flickered where he had stood. This time the swordsman swore freely.

"_Venhedis! _Where did the mage go?!"

…

Alistair struggled with his armour… he had to confess, he hadn't managed to put it on by himself in a while. Having his own servants had made him quite complacent, and he'd almost forgotten how _frustrating_ it was. But he was more than a novice king; he was an ex-Templar and a Warden. A warrior that commanded notice, he thought to himself, trying desperately to balance whilst he fumbled with his greaves.

It was with some surprise that he heard a shuffling down the corridor. One of soft fabric rather than steel. Alistair's heart sank. That _blighted_ mage must have finished the ritual, and was coming back to dispose of him. That meant Hawke was… _dead_…

A cold wash of sadness was quickly drowned out by pounding fury; he snatched for his sword and shield. He was going to _murder_ the bastard. He was going to rip the mage limb from limb.

In his haste, the Warden King tripped over his own half-fastened boot, and crashed to the floor with a startled yelp.

The anger was gone as suddenly as it came, replaced by surprise, bemusement and not a small amount of embarrassment. He looked up from his tangled position just in time to see the robed figure enter the room and pull up short, startled by the armour but confused by the odd situation. _I must be sooooooo intimidating…_ Alistair thought wryly.

However, seeing the crimson liquid that all but coated Cormac brought Alistair's anger bubbling to the surface once again. "Cormac…" It didn't sound like his own voice. It sounded feral. He sounded like… Fenris…?

The mage obviously noted the hostility in the other man's voice as he turned on his heel and sped swiftly into a different corridor. Alistair made to follow, stumbling clumsily over his ill fitted armour. That would not stop him.

"WHERE'S THAT MAGE?! THAT BASTARD! I'LL RIP HIS SODDING HEART OUT!" The woman's voice thundered down the tunnels.

The sandy-haired King faltered.

For a few moments, he could not contemplate the relief that washed through him. He stopped short in his pursuit, sheathed his own sword, and pulled the shining two handed blade from where it leant on the wall.

He felt an almost childish grin spread across his face as he made his way towards the main hall, his mailed feet seeming incredibly light on the stone floor.

It was time to return _Persuasion_ to its owner…

…..

Varric nearly jumped out of his skin when the roar erupted behind him. "Jeez, Hawke! You scared the shit out of me!" He scolded, though he noticed with a small smirk the Elf's wide eyes and grateful smile as he watched the red-faced woman surge to her feet.

"I'm going to rip off his arms and head and present Sandal with his first make-shift drum-kit!"

"I doubt the sound quality would be much good." The dwarf chuckled.

"Don't worry, I'll have a test run on a certain dwarf who springs to mind…" She growled.

"Wha…?"

"Not you."

"Thank the ancestors for _that_!"

Sebastian cut in urgently. "Well now that you seem _recovered_, perhaps you could help us with our little _problems_?"

"They look like skeletons to me…"

"She doesn't have armour or weapons." Fenris cut in protectively, "I don't think that…" The glare Sebastian received as he quickly passed a dagger into Hawke's hands was unmistakable. "What part of she is unarmoured and we're surrounded by undead and _demons_ do you not understand?" He hissed at the archer.

"I'm helping her defend herself, Fenris… I'm not exactly suggesting that she go and fight that Pride Demon with nothing but the…"

"There's a Pride Demon…? LET ME AT IT!"

…

Of course, Aveline had turned briefly when she heard the unmistakable sound of Hawke letting off steam, but she didn't have time to celebrate her friend's recovery. The other four were busy battling the endless tides of skeletons. The battle Aveline faced was reaching its terrifying conclusion.

Her breath hitched as Isabella only just dodged the huge demon's fist. The Guard Captain knew that there was no chance of her competing with the Rivaini's speed, and as much as she could take more damage than the thief, the shieldswoman knew that she couldn't stand a full on blow from the thing and continue to fight.

_Shit_.

Merrill's spells were becoming more and more infrequent, Donnic was tiring, Isabella spent more time dodging than dealing damage… the only person doing _anything_ to the creature was Anders… and she'd prefer not to have to rely on their only healer in such a manner.

The red-head raised her shield to her eyes and began her charge. Her heart thudded; she was no stranger to pain… but neither had she been in a fight since she and Wesley fled the Blight where she genuinely considered death a likely option. They had fought such demons before, of course… but this beast shrugged away their attacks almost dismissively. Not that she had had much window to inflict much injury.

It made her beyond uneasy.

Aveline caught sight of a shadow closing in on her and darted to the left- narrowly avoiding the monster's hand as it slammed into the ground. Taking the opportunity, she threw her weight forward to force her blade into its flesh.

The demon roared in pain. _Good_. She had forced it off balance. She pulled her sword from its target and charged with renewed vigour towards the bulk of the beast, plunging the newly bloodied steel into its torso.

The Guard Captain knew that the battle was far from over. But hurting the enemy boosted morale… her efforts would have greater impact on her comrades beyond merely…

The demon lashed out and there was a cry from behind her.

Even as Aveline turned, the elven mage had been flung across the hall. She landed with a sickening thud in a tangle of limbs.

Aveline's breath was pushed from her lungs. As cold as she felt, she knew that she could only do one thing. Steeling herself, she raised her shield and sword and continued her assault.

Before her blade could find its target a second time however, the monster gave a chilling roar that shook her to her core. She was thrown to the floor and her head swam. She was aware, however, of the beast charging forward.

…..

Hawke watched Merrill collapse into a heap on the cavern floor.

It was impossible to interpret exactly what she experienced first: anger… fear… shock… concern…

The swordswoman felt all of these things in a wash of cold fury. It made her break away from Fenris, Varric and Sebastian. Before she knew it she was running full pelt towards the fallen mage armed with nothing but a dagger and grit determination.

She heard Fenris call her name desperately, but she didn't stop.

How could she?

The demon moved forward towards the fallen figure with a terrifying speed. In all honesty Hawke didn't know what she could do against it when she reached Merrill. What she _did_ know was that without her armour, she could even give Isabella a 'run' for her money.

Her breathing was hoarse as she reached the dark haired elf's crumpled figure. She all but threw herself in front of her friend as the Pride Demon reached her.

Hawke hefted the knife as she had seen Isabella do so many times, though she honestly had little idea how to use it as well as the Rivaini did… and she didn't even have her armour to provide any comfort. Hawke knew her chances of victory were none-existent… but she honestly couldn't think of anything else to do. So she kept her stance, waiting for the monster's first move.

The demon gave its signature roar; Hawke tensed as an immense shockwave shuddered through the air, and her grip on the knife's hilt tightened. She struggled with her balance as her unkempt hair waved violently around her with the force.

The creature dropped into an aggressive stance, its massive arms poised to attack and its legs tensed, ready for the charge, but she didn't move. She _refused_.

The ground trembled as the monstrous bulk surged toward her, every ponderous step a thunderclap against the blood-slicked stone beneath the behemoth's feet.

Staring down the charge, Hawke felt utterly stupid and vulnerable… but she was stubborn as hell, and this _thing_ was not taking Merill.

Still she did not move.

She sucked a breath in, waiting for the final impact. Truth be told, she fought the urge to close her eyes.

For a moment, there was an incredible clarity. Death was inevitable now, and it seemed her body was crying out to fill her last moments with every sensation it could. She felt the heat of the room, the slick blood underfoot. She heard the ring of steel on steel, the echoes of battle cries that sounded distant as thunder. She saw in seeming slow-motion the shifting muscle and sinew of the beast, the vile saliva dripping from its fanged, feral maw. She saw Fenris, across the room, saw the sweat dripping from his brow as he hurried towards her. Saw the fear in his eyes.

Suddenly, there was movement from the balcony above, and the echo of a battle cry mixed with the clattering of steel plates; the beast fell to the ground mid-charge, seemingly pinned by the force of an impact to its back.

The momentum of its own weight carried it forward, almost to where Hawke waited, blinking in disbelief.

Alistair wrenched his sword free with some considerable effort, then jumped down from its back. Emerging from the dust, he tossed her a familiar scabbard which she caught more by reflex than conscious decision.

"Your handsome, faithful and ever so competent Warden King reporting for duty!" He gave her a wide and warm smile.

"I'm not sure about the 'competent'." Hawke returned his affectionate expression with a relieved and grateful one.

"But I just fearlessly felled a Pride Demon to save your…"

"Your boot has fallen off…"

"Damn! I had to get dressed in the _dark, _you know_!" _He defended, but his boastful demeanour faded when he spotted the crumpled figure that Hawke had been defending. The blonde seemed to recall her anxiety and turned to kneel beside the elf. "Merrill…" She called to her softly.

A small sigh came from the figure. "Don't worry… Hawke… I'm glad that you're… safe…"

"Anders!" The all but naked swordswoman cried out. She looked so small, and so vulnerable… Alistair once again fought the urge to go to her…

Varric guided Hawke to one side as the blonde mage leaned in. Alistair frowned at the obviously possessed ex-Warden. He had never seen an abomination of such form… perhaps it was similar to Wynne; still, whatever the situation may be, his input had no place in such an intimate moment for Hawke. He had learned _some_ tact from the old woman, after all.

"Your armour is back there… where Cormac ran…" Alistair fumbled for words, though they faded when Hawke stood and Fenris planted his arm firmly around her shoulders in comfort, simultaneously sending the young King a threatening glare.

"Then let's get it. I've got a bone to pick with that mage, one of his own in fact… and it will be very painful when I remove it…"


	17. The Need for Blood

…..

"I don't know how you make it look so effortless." Alistair looked at Hawke, his features etched in an expression of wonder.

"…I'm putting on a _shoe_…"

"I know, but you make it look so…. _easy…_"

"You're an idiot." Fenris observed bluntly.

"Heeeeeey! You'll hurt my _feelings_!"`

"What a pity…"

"Would you two get over yourselves?" Hawke pulled on her gauntlets with a look of steely determination. "Alistair, which way? I won't delay this any longer."

"Erm… I _think_ it was…"

"You _think_?!" The white-haired haired swordsman snapped.

"It was _dark_, and I was on the _floor_, you know….!"

"So what you're saying," Fenris interjected, "Is that we've spent days getting lost in a warren of tunnels and you _think_ we're going the right way?"

"Well, I don't see _you_ offering anything more useful." The King grumbled.

"I was in the other **_bloody room_**!"

"I thought those brandings let you pass through the Fade?"

"Yes, but they don't let me _see_ through it!"

"Maker help me… both of you, stop it." The blonde cut in with an authoritative voice, her head was throbbing... perhaps an after effect of the ritual? She couldn't think about that now. She needed to end this. "We are going to find the bastard and take him down, that's the long and short of it. Now… _which way_?"

Fenris looked a little put out at being spoken to in such a tone; Hawke noted with some amusement, however, that Alistair seemed used to it. "Down that way." He pointed.

"Are you _sure_?" The elf asked, his tone dripping with scathing condescension.

"Yes. No. _Maaaaaybeeee_…. Just don't quote me on anything, alright?"

"It's a lead." Hawke told them both. "It's better than nothing. Lead the way, Alistair."

Voices faded, and the clanging of armour replaced the previous taut conversation between the men, though Hawke could still make out various grunts and grumbles. She sighed to herself.

_She should have left them with Isabella…_

Hawke stifled the chuckle as she shook her head and picked up the pace.

_Then again, maybe not…_

…..

"What even _is_ that thing?" Varric rubbed his neck, staring at the myriad of swirling lights above their heads.

"I feel the remnants of an entity long since departed. Whatever was here is not anymore, but still the shadow of something ancient lingers. This place is cursed."

"You're always such a ray of light, Blondie." The dwarf chuckled, though he immediately wished that he'd kept his mouth shut when the mages' lucid blue eyes turned from their study of Merrill's limp form to narrow at him. His natural dwarven resistance to magic did little to comfort him when faced with that icy stare.

"Do not make light of this! The Veil is torn…!"

"That's enough from both of you." Isabella cut in sternly, her expression dark and the fallen Elf cradled in her arms. "Justice… Anders… whatever your name is right now, get on with the healing. And if you argue, I have no problem sending you to the Fade _permanently_."

Aveline sighed as the mage resumed his ministrations, and joined Varric in his study. "Something ancient? Makes sense. "

"Well, we honest, hard working dwarves didn't build these things overnight, you know…. Though saying that…. I've never seen anything like this."

"You said that about the Thiag we found on your brother's Expedition." The Guard Captain pointed out.

"I know! Funny, isn't it? If Bartrand were here his eyes would be bugging out of his head!"

"If Bartrand were here the place would be stripped to its bare bones."

"Even the corpses would be packed away." The dwarf agreed.

The unmistakeable hum of Anders' healing magic faded and he sucked in a weary breath. His palms fell to the floor to support his flagging form and he pulled in several more gulps of air.

The group assembled, looking upon Merrill's pale, unmoving figure with concern. "It is done." He choked out.

"How long till she wakes?" The Rivaini asked, concern and impatience etched uncharacteristically across her features.

"Have faith in my abilities. It will not be long… It _can't_ take long."

"I assume it will take as long as it takes, my friend." Sebastian soothed with his usual gentle approach.

"No, you fool! She needs to wake so we can repair the Veil."

"Let me get this _straight._" Isabella began. "Merrill has nearly just died and _you_ want her to undertake something _stupidly __**dangerous**_."

"It is the only way!" The mage rose to his feet angrily.

"I won't let you." The pirate stated firmly. "She's been through enough now, leave her be."

Anders became more and more agitated, and the blue light that emanated from the mage intensified almost to the point of bursting. The tension between the two lay thick and heavy in the air, and some of their companions backed away nervously. After a moment, though, the angry blue-white luminance faded and disappeared. Anders fell to his knees once more, his head in his hands.

"How about we let Daisy decide for herself?" Varric proposed, smiling faintly as the dark haired woman stirred groggily.

….

"_Venhedis! _You said it was this way!"

"I said… 'I _think_'." Alistair corrected irritably.

"That is blatantly a _lie_."

"You think I would lie about which way I thought we should go?"

"No. I think it's a lie that you think at _all_."

"Well _that_ was catty…"

"The tracks _are_ faint, but the mage isn't wearing armour and these footprints seem recent. This must be the right track." Hawke stood from her cramped study. Her eyes soon rolled, however, when the juvenile conversation behind her continued.

"I think you're just _jealous_."

"_What!?" _Fenris choked out, clearly shocked that Alistair had struck so close to the bone.

"Yeeeees. I think you're jealous that my armour is _nicer_ than yours…"

"What?"

"_And _I'm taller and have better hair."

"You're also a half-wit who can't put on your own boots." Fenris snapped.

"You're just being mean now…"

"Andraste be my witness," The blonde cut in, "if you two don't shut up you'll understand why my enemies fear my prowess with this blade."

"You'll shove it through our guts?" Alistair queried, almost a little too cheerily for the swordwoman's liking.

"I'll shove it _somewhere_."

It was the Warden King's turn to roll his eyes. "Is she _always_ all business? I've never been threatened so much in my life!"

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe…" Hawke grumbled.

Fenris gave her a small affectionate smile, which threatened to widen as she caught his attention and blushed. "In Tevinter, I believe she would be known as _fortis-domina_."

"That sounds much better than what they call women in Ferelden." The ex-Warden sounded thoughtful.

"Dare I ask?"

"_Sausage wallet_."

Fenris blinked. "What?!"

"Seriously, that's what they say. Don't ask me who decided it was a good idea, clearly it was someone very _lonely_ or very _drunk_."

"If you _ever _call me a sausage purse…"

"A sausage _wallet_." The King corrected.

"Whatever. Ever call me that and neither wallet nor sausage will be of any use to you."

Alistair frowned. "How…?"

"You'll be dead." Fenris interpreted, with not a small amount of mirth in his voice. "Because she'll have killed you."

"The same goes for _you_." Her eyes narrowed at the pale elven swordsman.

"Well… _quite_." He chuckled nervously. "But we waste time. Let us give chase, lest our quarry find the sun before we find him."

…..

Harsh, white light flooded Merrill's vision as her eyes fluttered open. After a moment, it slowly faded into a murky gloom as she adjusted to the relative brightness of the orb floating overhead. A head appeared in front of her, silhouetted against the glow.

"Keeper?" she breathed faintly.

An amused chuckle emanated from above. "I believe you'll find dear Anders isn't quite _that _old… yet."

The blonde mages' features resolved in her vision to reveal a scowl. "Not to mention the fact I'm a _man._"

"So you keep claiming, though I've yet to see any evidence of it."

"If all goes well, you never will."

Merrill felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, and craned her neck to see Isabella kneeling to support her. The pirate's face was glistening with perspiration, and a thin red line was visible along her jawline, which was set in a not-very-convincing pout.

"You know, _real_ men can't keep their hands off me," she teased.

"No, it would seem they can't. Nor their _diseases._"

"You're sick?!"Merrill sat up far faster than she should have done. Her head swam but she fought the nausea. "Isabella! We need to get you to a healer!"

"_I'm_ a healer." Anders interjected rather grumpily.

"It's not _that_ sort of disease, Kitten."

"I'm sure the Keeper could do something…"

"I'm just going to stop talking. Clearly no one listens to me." The blonde mage shook his head.

"Daisy," Varric chuckled, "she's fine. It was _you_ we were worried about."

"But if she's _ill_, Varric…" The Elf protested.

"You put up with this down here for a _week_, Anders?" Aveline queried, clearly amused.

"If I'd have followed my gut instincts even my skill couldn't have saved her." He admitted.

"Makes sense." The red head chuckled.

"Merrill, stop squirming." The Rivaini scolded. "I am _fine_. A few little cuts and bruises but that's it… but we all know pleasure goes with pain." She gave Anders a cheeky wink. "By the way, what happened to the 'blue you'."

"By the 'blue me' you mean '_Justice_'?"

"I was wondering the same." The Guard Captain cut in from behind him. "He just seemed to fade from you in a second."

"I've spent so much mana healing Merrill's injuries, he couldn't sustain his presence and neither could I. That and I fear he was about to cause harm to you. Justice no longer recognises friends. Justice recognises only harsh realities and truths. Though with the Veil torn that isn't likely to last long. That side of me will be taking over again soon."

"That's a pity," the dark haired rogue sighed. "I was rather hoping there was a switch behind your ear or something so we can just turn him off."

"What makes you say that?"

"He doesn't even _look_ at my chest."

Merrill shut her eyes, trying to blank out the dull throbbing in her temples. She opened them again when she heard a soft footstep in front of her, to see Sebastian kneeling down. He reached down to gently squeeze her hand, and his bright blue eyes met hers.

"Merrill," he said in his soft, reassuring voice, "we have a small problem."

She felt Isabella's hand tense on her shoulder, and the Starkhaven prince glanced up at her.

"Sorry, Isabella. I know you don't like it, but time is short."

The pirate said nothing, though her grip tightened further. Merrill's apprehension heightened, and she looked around nervously, catching sight of the enormous bulk of the fallen Pride demon. Memories came flooding back, suddenly.

"By the Dread Wolf! What happened? Where is Hawke?!"

The elf scrambled to her feet, panicked, but felt her legs give way beneath her. She felt Isabella try to grab her, but she was falling too fast. Fortunately, Sebastian was in perfect position to catch her, and she leaned on him gratefully.

She caught a scowl flash across Anders' face, but Varric interrupted before she could say anything.

"Calm down, Daisy, Hawke's fine. Her two boyfriends rescued the damsel in distress, and they've all run off chasing the villain." He chuckled to himself. "Poor guy's soon going to find out that this particular damsel has _claws._"

Her relief was short lived, as Anders cut in, his voice tense and strained. "We have our own problems Merrill. Those demons weren't summoned by anybody, they came of their own accord. The veil is torn. _We _need to fix it. _Now._"

"Tactful," Isabella observed dryly. "Don't let him rush you Kitten, you're not ready."

Merrill shut her eyes again, willing her pounding heart to slow down. After a moment, she pushed herself away from Sebastian to stand on her own two feet. Shaky, but not so weak as before. Taking a deep breath, she met Anders' gaze and nodded. "It _has_ to be done."

…..

Hawke stalked down the stone corridor – for all she knew the _same_ stone corridor – her heavy boots making a very satisfying thud with every step. Her mood was deteriorating rapidly. She'd been underground for weeks, she'd been captured, _humiliated_, **_rescued_** of all things. She'd had to endure the apparent loss of her friends – a lie, of course – though she still didn't know if Merrill was going to make it, and now they were _lost _down here, while the **_bastard_** behind all of it was getting away. And to make matters worse, these two idiots would Not. Shut. Up.

"Am I the only one who thinks we're going in circles?" She heard the so-called King of Ferelden ask.

"No," came the predictably sarcastic reply, "but you're the only one who's _supposed_ to know where he's going."

"I said I could sense him through the Grey Warden's link, not draw a map to his house."

"We just _left_ his house..."

"Yeeeesss... his creepy, creepy house... If you can call a random cave a house…."

Hawke rounded on the pair, her patience broken. "Will the two of you shut the _hell_ up? We might as well hire an orchestra to let him know we're coming!"

Fenris looked affronted, while Alistair was clearly crestfallen. She regretted the outburst almost immediately. Admittedly it had felt good to release some of her irritation, but it wasn't their fault she was annoyed. Not really.

The warden opened his mouth to apologise, but stopped short. His eyes widened momentarily in shock and confusion, then his jaw set. "We have a problem."

"What?"

"Cormac. He's... gone."

Hawke stopped, stunned. "What do you mean, _gone_?"

"Gone. As in not there. As in vanished. As if he doesn't even exist."

"Did he get out of range?"

"No, we were gaining on him. He'd slowed down a lot and we were catching him up..."

"Hawke!" Fenris' voice cut in from further down the passage. "_Blood._"


	18. Blood and Stone

Cormac could tell through the strength of his link with Alistair that the young King was gaining on him, yet as much as he tried to summon the energy to press on, blood loss and exhaustion combined were an almost crippling burden.

Thoughts of Niorune and Hawke permeated his thoughts, yet he pushed them to one side stubbornly. He would be of no use to the Goddess if Alistair or that Elf caught up to him to exact revenge. Yet as hard as he tried to keep these reflections from his mind, visions of the beautiful blonde woman and memories of the song that had haunted him for so long whispered, sending chills down his spine.

"Going somewhere, Cormac?"

The mage recognised that voice instantly, and his pounding heart leapt into his tight throat.

He should be delighted that one of his allies still lived, yet it did nothing but send cold terror coursing through his emptying veins.

"Wern… Werner?"

The tainted dwarf emerged into view from the shadows beyond; although he had always been an intimidating creature, his dark expression and slow, deliberate movements now called to mind a cold-hearted predator, savouring the moment that its prey realised it was cornered. Cormac felt a terrible compulsion to flee, though he knew it was impossible, he simply didn't have the strength left to escape.

"You do not seem happy to see me?"

The mage could not answer. He knew instinctually that there were no words he could say, and no parley he could offer, to distract the dwarf from his intentions.

Werner continued, his low voice carrying ominously through the dark silence. "You seem out of breath, my Warden friend? I do hope you were not fleeing from our duty?"

"Our cause is lost. The ritual did not work." Cormac breathed.

"On the contrary. You have opened the door so that Niorune may present herself. Those beasts you saw were merely the precursor to her arrival."

"How can you know that?"

"The Goddess has spoken to me. Told me of her intentions."

"Impossible. How could she have spoken to you?" The mage asked, struggling to keep his tone from betraying his fear. Obviously his underground companion had finally lost his mind completely, like the rest of his simpering kin.

The weak, fading light from the mage's staff caught a flicker of malice and a shimmer of familiar blue in the dwarf's milky eyes as he stepped forward.

"I told you, Cormac, you opened the door. I hear her words now."

"Impossible…"

"You have spilled much blood in the name of the Goddess, old friend." Cormac's breath hitched in his lungs as the dwarf produced a cruel looking dagger, the jagged steel glinted wickedly in the rapidly dying light. "You have given so much. Yet you have one sacrifice yet to make."

….

"Alistair?" She looked to the frowning King, who seemed just as confused as she did that their quarry was still nowhere to be seen.

"I can sense something else… something not _quite_ tainted… I don't know." He shook his head. "It's almost like my Warden _and_ Templar senses are tingling… at the _same time_."

"Whatever the idiot _thinks_ he is sensing, the blood speaks for itself." Fenris cut in as he squatted to examine the floor, he beckoned Hawke over and dipped his armoured finger into a dark pool. "This blood is still fresh. It's not possible to bleed so much for so long and continue to flee… especially not at the pace he has shown."

"Cormac has proven himself a Blood Mage. The amount of blood we have seen is no real indication if they come from wounds we have inflicted or wounds opened for magical energy. Still, he can't have gone much farther than this." The Warden King offered.

"Let's hope so." Hawke commented grimly, staring with some discomfort at the size of the bloody puddle, yet that was not the only thing bothering her. "You say your Templar senses are tingling…?" Her eyes swerved to take in the uneasy figure of Alistair, "Could it not be the tear in the Veil…?"

"No. It's something… active. Almost _alive_. A tear in the Veil does not create this… _feeling_… and I speak from experience in these matters."

"Then let's close the distance and get this over with… and _pray_ that there's something left for us to beat to a bloody pulp." The Elf growled as he stood.

"I somehow don't think we need to worry about the 'bloody pulp' part…"

…

Merrill fought the urge to smile as she crafted the familiar magic between her fingers. This was _old_ magic. The magic of the people. Magic forgotten by most other Clans. Magic taught to her by the Keeper.

_This_ is what she wanted to protect. What she wanted to pass onto future generations.

She had noticed earlier (with some satisfaction) the almost admiring glance Anders had given her when she had begun casting in spite of her heavy injuries. Perhaps she could teach him some of the Elven ways? She didn't know if he would like that or be insulted that she dared to think she could teach him _anything_. But he always _had_ been sceptical of her methods so she supposed that she would leave it for now.

The Elf recalled her attention as she noticed a wayward strand of light. The magic swiftly smoothed itself out and the golden green strands continued to rise towards the ruptured blue orb.

Although still an unmistakeable force in the cavern, the exploding blue presence seemed to have calmed and shrunk a little.

Truth be told, Merrill was a little surprised by how ultimately _straightforward_ it had all seemed. If progress continued as this steady pace, they would have solved the problem by the time Hawke returned.

As if sensing her apparent complacence, the lucid bauble crackled and shuddered suddenly, releasing an eerie thud as it did so. As if it had received power from some source beyond her knowledge.

Merrill felt a tremor through her arms that resonated to her already weak knees. The blonde mage beside her grunted audibly and there were several gasps of alarm behind.

"Andraste's flaming panties! What _was_ that?"

"I don't know." Sebastian sounded stern. "But I will _remind_ you Varric, it… _irritates_ me somewhat when you speak of the Maker's Bride so…"

"What part do you object to _in particular_, Choirboy? Does it upset you to think they're on fire… or do you not think she wears any at all?"

"I would _pay_ for the second one to be true." Isabella chuckled.

"Just hold onto the dream, Rivaini…" The dwarf winked, replacing Bianca - drawn in alarm - back into her holster.

"I'm not leaving the Chantry for over a week when we get back. And even _then_ I'll probably have to go to extra Chants..."

Isabella sighed theatrically. "To rid yourself of our wicked, wicked sin?" Merrill could not see the sly smile on the pirate's face, but she knew it was there.

"I'll settle for just getting _away_ from _you_."

"Pity… I always imagined myself a fine lady of Starkhaven…"

Aveline shook her head. "A fine lady, you say? You've got a good imagination."

"Mine's better," chimed in the dwarf, batting his eyelashes at Sebastian. "I imagined similar about myself."

"…Just leave me be…"

…

As the three looked down upon the mangled body of the Warden Mage, a heavy cloud set upon them. Hawke had seen many corpses over the years, most of which she had had a hand in making, but never had she seen such a sickening mess. If it hadn't been for the deliberate knife wounds that sliced through his flesh, she would have thought it the work of some crazed beast.

"Torture?" Alistair mumbled.

"Not a chance." Even Fenris kept his voice low, humbled by the horror that lay in the tunnel. "These incisions were made to kill. There was no attempt at prolonging the inevitable here."

"Why such violence?" Hawke questioned, "Surely a blade to the throat or gut would have been enough?"

"Darkspawn, perhaps?"

"No." Alistair stated flatly. "There's no darkspawn anywhere near here. Whatever did this is a little more like us than I want to believe."

The small blonde woman studied the grisly sight for a few moments, searching for any indication of what may have happened mere moments before they had arrived. A fallen weapon. A forgotten effect.

… a blood trail…

Her eyes narrowed as she noticed what seemed to be a footprint, disguised somewhat by the shadows. Yet as her eyes narrowed to confirm her suspicion, she could make out a red hue that had settled in the shape.

Hawke moved forward, careful to avoid disturbing anything lest her comrades find further clues. Yet as she pressed onwards, she noticed another print, and another and another. All unmistakeably the product of the same small feet.

"It's strange." Alistair sounded puzzled. "That presence I told you about earlier, I can sense it here, all over the body. But now it's fleeing. The source of it is moving far away… almost…"

"Almost like it's in the walls?" Hawke's eyes finally came to rest at a familiar darkened shape in the rocky bulk of the tunnel. Here the printed footfalls ended, yet the trickle of blood that had marked each one continued into the tiny and narrow barrow.

"Exactly." Alistair met her gaze. "Well, how are we going to chase it now?"

"Simple. We're going to strip you of your armour and shove you into the barrow after it…" Fenris' weak humour hung in the air like a dead weight.

"Hahahaha… very funny. I wouldn't fit."

"I see… too many royal banquets, I suppose?"

Hawke frowned at the Elf, though the disapproving expression shifted as she caught Alistair's anxious look.

He caught her staring, and forced some levity into his voice. "Anyway, it would make more sense to put your own dwarf in there…"

"Varric isn't a pet, Alistair." The blonde scolded, she would have smiled, but it seemed horrendously inappropriate given the scenario they stood amidst.

"I'm just _saying_…"

Hawke's eyes drifted once again to the carved up carcass on the cavern floor. The cruel looking tears through flesh and bone. His eyes still open and glassy. His mouth open as if in protest. The blood was still warm… she could tell that even by the smell and the dull gleam that greeted the torches' light.

Her eyes must have flickered towards the fire that Fenris held because he reminded her gently that the torch would not last for _much_ longer.

She nodded, looking for one last time at the deliberate red lines that punctured his chest. Jagged lines that ran to and from an invisible point… almost like… a half circle…? A sun maybe? Hawke shook her head. It seemed ludicrous.

"Hawke." She heard Fenris call to her softly.

"Let's go." She agreed, turning away with some reticence.

"What if we missed something?" Alistair questioned, though he did not hesitate to follow.

"I think I am going to remember this in far greater detail than I'd like, for far longer than I care to." She replied as they made their way back to the main cavern.

…..

As they found the familiar tunnels and passed the holding cells, Hawke noticed that it wasn't just herself that faltered in surprise when a familiar glow tipped the end of the tunnel they were in.

Sure enough, the orb still filled the room with its presence when they emerged. Although now unmistakeably dulled and contained within a shimmering barrier, the blonde still felt an immense wave of unease wash over her as she stared up at it.

"Well…" Alistair followed her gaze, "it's still blue." He observed.

"Some things have not changed since we left in pursuit of the mage." Fenris agreed.

"What? It _is_ still blue."

"And _you_ are still an idiot."

Alistair hesitated, his displeased expression turned towards the smirking Elf. "And _you_ are still…"

"Yes?"

"Jealous of my hair!"

"_Why_ would I be jealous of your hair?"

"Ha! See? I've got you on the defensive now, _Morrigan_…"

"I don't know who that is…"

"She's the daughter of…"

"I don't _care_."

Hawke rolled her eyes at now familiar sound of the men quarrelling and smiled as Aveline and Varric made their way towards her.

"How's the situation here?"

Aveline sighed wearily but happily. "Fine. Everything seems under control. The demons have stopped coming, the skeletons have gone, Anders is back to normal… if you can _ever_ say that…"

"The orb has stopped throwing hissy fits…" Varric added.

"Hissy fits?" Hawke's eyebrow arched in question.

Aveline shot the dwarf an unappreciative glare before shrugging and smiling at Hawke once more. "It was nothing. There was a tremor not long ago, only for a moment though…"

"A tremor?" Hawke repeated, sounding thoughtful.

Aveline knew what that meant, and it confirmed her own suspicions. There was probably more to this than they had yet seen. But however far they were from the end, the Guard Captain knew one thing; they were in no state to continue fighting. They would pull back for now, and if it was ever called for they would return with reinforcements. She maintained a neutral expression. "Yes, it wasn't anything… apart from a little unsettling, but nothing's happened since. It didn't interfere with Merrill or Anders erecting the barrier…"

"And Merrill is…?"

"Merrill's _fine_, Hawke." She heard the Elf's weary, yet warm voice. "She just wants to go home."

The swordwoman's eyes raised to the bound magic that floated above their heads, and a nauseating feeling of apprehension stirred within her. Her gaze dropped to take in the view of her comrades. Merill, though clearly drawn and still weak was putting on a brave face. Anders looked ready to fall over from exhaustion, Varric sported several deep cuts that showed even through his heavy coat. Donnic's armour was heavily dented and Isabella's dress was torn and darkened with blood. In comparison with the rest of the team, Sebastian didn't seem too worse for wear, though he was not without his share of bruises. Hawke suddenly found it much easier to push her unease to one side.

It was nothing.

"Then let's go. I think 'The Hanged Man' will have missed us."

"_Missed_ us?"Varric chortled. "My dear Hawke, we'll be lucky if it's not gone bankrupt!"

…


	19. Candlelight

Sorry it's been so long, coursework and long chapters are not very conducive to speed. Hope it's worth the wait...

...

The ascent to the surface was a slow one and the weary silence that had settled on the exhausted figures that all but crawled forward only served to make the stretching shadows seem even longer.

Bizarrely, the only person with any vigour was Merrill. Hawke couldn't decide if it was the anticipation of being under the wide sky once more, or if Anders had renewed her energy more than needed. It didn't matter; it was good to see her friend looking so happy after their ordeal… but that didn't mean that the Elf's excited scrambling back and forth wasn't getting on Hawke's already grated nerves. The swordswoman couldn't recall a time she had ever snapped at Merrill, but her patience was being sorely tested by the throbbing in her head. She hoped that the exasperated Sebastian would have a measure of success in calming her down, though judging at his exhausted and atypically irritated expression she doubted it somewhat.

Even Alistair seemed more sullen than usual. _That_ wasn't something the blonde was ever going to _begin_ trying to decipher right now. She was having problems enough putting one foot in front of the other, not that the others weren't facing their own difficulties:

Isabella tried to mask a limp, Anders trudged on only barely able to call forth the wisp that lit the path ahead; Varric was uncharacteristically silent, keeping pace with Aveline and Donnic to form a rear guard. Hawke was sure there was a joke in there somewhere, but she struggled to put her thoughts into words.

She heard Fenris sigh a little from behind her and she resisted the instinct to turn to face him. Even without looking, she knew which wound he was probably nursing, a rather nasty graze to the head. Of course, he insisted that he was fine, and had shunned the last of Anders' strength:

_"A fine thing that would be, mage, if my wounds were healed but we all got completely lost in the dark…"_

_"I'm not the only mage here, Fenris, Merrill can…"_

_"That's not a risk that I'm willing to take."_

Hawke fought the flicker of a smile at the recollection. _Typical of him really_. Being awkward for awkward's sake. But as the path ahead narrowed and curved, and dipped and rose, Hawke was grateful for the dim yet faithful light that led them onward. Though that didn't stop her from sighing heavily when a familiar, narrow, slippery and steep path was illuminated ahead. Hawke resisted the urge to glance at Alistair, but lost her fight against the blush, as she recalled how he had held her steady after she had slipped… so close.

Hawke grunted. Her thoughts swam. Maker, was that the light flickering or the walls moving?

She was tired, and her mouth was dry. Anything else could wait until she had slept and had a bath. Then sense would return to her… hopefully…

As the party pressed forward, every muscle in the swordwoman's body cried out at the steepness of the ascent. It snatched her breath, yet she pressed stubbornly forward, reaching for the wall to support her weight.

It only took a mere moment of lost concentration. Her hand slipped, her knee buckled and before she knew it, Hawke was sliding backwards. But rather than panic, her body flagged, almost grateful for the rest that the ground would grant.

Yet the hardness of the floor did not come. Hawke was aware of a grip snatching her arm to offer support. Instinctively, she turned to cling to the figure and slipped easily to the ground as their embrace held onto her.

She couldn't fight it anymore, she surrendered to the weariness that plagued her and ignored the voices that called her name so desperately.

…

"That's all I can do, right now." Anders sighed more heavily than Alistair would have liked. The young King frowned in concern.

"As in 'that's all you can do, right **_now_**'? Or 'that's **_all_**you can do, right now'?"

"Doesn't that mean the same thing?" Merrill whispered, not quite quietly enough, to Varric.

"Not quite, Daisy."

Anders eyes raised to face the ex-Warden and flickered towards the imposing figure of Fenris that lingered at his shoulder. Alistair recognised concern in the mage's eyes, but was glad that he did not see defeat.

"Maker, man! She's not dying. From everything I understand she's managed to resist an incredibly strong possession ritual. You don't walk away from something like that unaffected. Magic always takes its toll…"

"I don't think I've ever heard something so truthful come out of your mouth." Fenris snorted.

"_Anyway_," Anders sent an irritated glare in the Elf's direction, "I don't think Hawke's in any condition to press on, right now. And the rest of us aren't exactly fighting fit…"

"I feel fine!"

"…except for Merrill."

"What are you suggesting? That we rest _here_ for a while?" If Alistair sounded somewhat reticent- it was because he _was_. He had seen enough of the blighted Deep Roads to last him for at least one lifetime. The long darkness made him beyond uneasy, and Hawke's sudden collapse had him beyond concerned. Although the threat of Cormac had been nullified, this was still the realm of the Darkspawn, not to mention any tainted dwarves that could still be running about. If they were attacked, they would surely be too weak to stand an assault of any force.

"Out of the question!" The Guard Captain snorted. "We're a fighter down and that's just the beginning of our problems. We need to get _out_ of the Deep Roads as soon as we can. We _must_ keep moving."

"But Aveline, Hawke can't move…" The blonde mage argued.

A brusque movement from Fenris made Anders fall silent. The white-haired Elf crouched in front of where the mage perched, but rather than receive the hostile stare that he was so used to, Anders watched as Fenris stared down at the unmoving woman with an quite a different expression. After a moment of silence, he bundled her into his arms with a swift movement. "I'll carry her. Problem solved."

"Don't be an idiot, you're still injured and…"

"Do let me know if you think of an alternative." Came the curt reply.

"Don't suppose anybody fancies carrying me?" Isabella batted her eyelids to anyone looking, with a seductive pout across her features.

"Not a chance." Came the staggered, yet unanimous answer.

The pirate sighed and threw an amicable arm over Merrill's shoulders and led her onwards after Fenris. "I'm going to dye my hair blonde and run round wearing armour and waving a sword like a lunatic." She told the confused Elf.

"That doesn't sound very appealing…"

The Rivaini chuckled. "Works for Hawke…"

….

_Sky_.

Fenris had never realised before how beautiful it was. When they had eventually emerged from the gnarled tunnels, it was night-time. A brisk, cold night littered with stars.

Not that the Elf was normally one to admire beauty in such poetic locations, but even his spirits were lifted by the sight.

A few of the remaining guards began setting up camp under Aveline's watchful eye and, after Anders had rolled out a blanket to provide some comfort, Fenris gently lay Hawke upon it.

She had been so still all the time he had carried her. He had only been able to tell she still lived by her slow, steady and quiet breathing in his ear. There had been several occasions on the long trek to the surface when he had stopped, convinced that Hawke had fallen completely silent. He had held his breath and listened until he was certain that she was fine.

Looking down at her now, she looked ashen and small. It made Fenris feel guilty just gazing upon her. He had hurt her that night, by leaving with Isabella… and he had _intended_ to. He wished he could take it back, but he knew that that was impossible.

"She's going to be fine, you know." Anders intruded on his thoughts.

Although the words set his mind at ease, it did nothing to soothe his guilt. He needed to see her. To speak with her. "You're sure?"

"Fenris, she has been through a great ordeal. To even survive such a ritual shows her resilience. She just needs to rest."

"And if you're wrong…?" He didn't know where the words had come from; of course he didn't mean it. He knew that the mage, in spite of his various faults, was a flawless healer… and he was resolutely loyal to Hawke. He had no reason to doubt his word.

"I'm not wrong." Anders replied, with a little more softness and understanding than Fenris cared to note. "She will be fine…" Fenris noticed a small smirk, but it was too late to cut the mage off from further comment. "…then tomorrow you can go back to fucking things up with her…"

The Elf scowled, "Shut your mouth, mage…"

…..

"So why call it 'Lightning'?"

Merrill returned the King's quizzical expression with one of indignation. "Why should I _not_ call him Lightning?"

"Well…." Alistair's eyes fell to the pathetic, furless specimen in the mage's lap, "he doesn't look especially… _speedy_…"

"He moved fast enough when that demon threw me."

"Well, yes….. he got out of your pack quickly… in a life threatening situation…"

"…just what are you trying to _say_?"

Alistair sighed, "I don't know. I'm making conversation?"

"Well it's not a very good conversation." The almost irritated expression faded as the Elf looked over towards the campfire, where the motionless figure of Hawke lay illuminated. The young King watched the mage's face crumple. "Do you think Hawke will be alright?"

"Your healer seems to think so…"

An uneasy silence drifted between the two of them. Alistair was tempted to ask why Merrill had chosen a spot so far from the fire and everyone else, but given the grimace she wore, he thought it best not… He took a seat beside her, perhaps feeling the need for some air as much as she.

"It's my fault, isn't it?"

"…what?"

"If I hadn't been the one to get thrown… Anders would have had more power to heal her. If I hadn't lost my concentration during the sealing ritual…"

"Merrill, I'm not very good at this sort of thing, but this is not your fault… if anything it's mine."

"No… I have a habit of doing things wrong… I _always_ get it wrong… Just ask the Keeper, or Mahariel…"

"Mahariel?" Alistair felt an involuntary chuckle rise through his chest. How he wished that that elven stick was here now, to brow beat him into sense. His humour was snatched when he heard the dark-haired woman stifle a sob.

"Yes… the mighty Hero of Ferelden…" She choked out, "I was there… with the mirror… with all my magic… I let him down…"

Alistair smirked. "I know Mahariel well, he has only ever spoken of everyone in his clan fondly. And I mean _everyone_…"

Merrill sniffed. "He doesn't blame me?"

"Not _at all_. And Hawke will be _fine_."

A thin and tight smile replaced the tears. Yet Merrill still made no move towards the fire.

Alistair sighed. He wanted to ask, but he didn't know if Merrill was the right person to risk it with. But then again, asking Isabella or Aveline would be akin to castration.

"Merill… can I _talk_ to you about something?"

"Of course, though I can't guarantee a very good answer…"

Alistair felt the blush creep into his cheeks. Maker! How could he say this? "You know… when you… _like_ someone…?"

"Well yes, I like a lot of people…"

"No, I mean _like_."

Merrill frowned in confusion. "So do I."

"No I mean…"

Her eyes widened in sudden understanding. "Oh! You mean '_like'_ someone?"

"Yes! Thank you!" Alistair sighed in relief, "Well, here's the thing, I _like_ someone and I don't know how to tell her how _much…"_

"One would assume 'with _words_', I expect…"

"But we hardly know each other. What am I even supposed to say? I mean, you can't just walk up to someone and say 'I know we've only just met, but I've never met anyone like you so please abandon your life here and come back to Ferelden with me.'"

Merrill didn't answer straight away, if anything she seemed a little taken aback. "Alistair, this is very sudden…"

The young King sighed, "I know. But I can't bear the thought of being apart…"

"But… I'm not sure if I 'm ready to be Queen of Ferelden!" The wide-eyed Elf squeaked.

Alistair's panicked gaze swung to look at her. "What?!"

"I mean, you seem very sweet but I don't know anything about living in a palace or…"

"Merrill…" Alistair blinked, a little uncertain about how to react.

"And would I be expected to go to balls? Because I can't dance to save my _life_, you should have heard the way the Keeper used to laugh at me…"

_Maker! Did she never come up for breath?!_

"**_Merrill_**…I'm talking about _Hawke_."

"Oh… oh!" As dark as it was, Alistair was sure he could see her cheeks redden. "Well, of course I knew that…"

"Riiiiight… **_any_**_-__**way**_, am I crazy?"

"Probably." The Elf replied much faster than the King would have preferred. "But Varric says that everyone is crazy."

"… I'm not sure what good that is going to do me… but…erm…" This was pointless. "Thank you for listening, Merrill. You've been a great help." Alistair pushed himself to his feet and began to take his leave.

"Why don't you just kiss her?"

"Excuse-me?"

"I've heard Varric say that if Fenris 'grew some balls and just kissed her' he'd sweep her off her feet. Though I'm not sure how he's supposed to grow 'balls'. There must be a tree or something…"

Alistair took in a breath of cold night-time air and caught the gaze of the rambling mage. She fell silent.

"Thank you." He told her.

"What for?... Have I helped then?"

Alistair gave a thin smile. "You know, I think you have…"

….

"How are you feeling?"

Hawke rolled her eyes. "Anders, if you ask me that one more time I'm going to answer with violence."

"I'm only asking…"

"Fine, I feel _fine_. Tired and pissed off, but _fine_."

"_Fine_!" He mimicked her tone and smirked when she scowled at him. She had woken some time ago, still a little dazed, but otherwise alright. But Anders knew that it would take some further investigation to discover the extent of her injuries.

Hawke's eyes drifted to the front of the group, to where Fenris and Isabella led the way. She felt a familiar jealousy settle in her stomach, but it seemed dull and far away, hidden under waves of exhaustion. "I just want to get home and have a bath."

Anders followed her gaze. "He doesn't deserve you."

"That is something _else_ I will respond to with violence."

"You can't keep avoiding this, Hawke. Sooner or later you're going to have to decide…"

"Decide what?" She hoped the hostility in her tone was enough to make the mage drop his line of enquiry.

Sadly, it was not.

"Well, I know if _I_ had to pick between a handsome and kind _King_ and a feral homicidal maniac the decision would be fairly straightforward, but I suppose we _are_ all different…"

"You're telling me you would rather court a _Templar_?"

"An _ex-_Templar. And you're nit-picking. You _know_ what I mean…"

"I know exactly what you mean," Raucous laughter erupted from the Rivaini. Although she couldn't see Fenris' expression, it didn't stop Hawke picturing the subtle way the pirate was likely to be touching his arm and leaning into him. She sighed, "I just wish that I didn't…"

…

"Mistress!" Orana ran to Hawke as she trudged wearily in the hall. The young Elf threw her arms around the swordswoman's neck enthusiastically, only to promptly snatch them away with a gasp. "Mistress! I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

Hawke chuckled, "Don't apologise for being pleased to see me, Orana."

"I made some soup!"

"Apologise for that instead…"

"What?"

Hawke sighed. "Nothing. Please see to some hot water for now, and a wine. I'm sorely in need of some drink and a bath in that exact order…"

As the young Elf bustled away, Hawke raised her eyes to see the figure approach.

"I was about to petition the Viscount to send out a search party."

"Good to see you too, Mother."

"I trust things went well?"

"Smooth as a jagged rock…" Hawke replied, hefting her breastplate over her head and letting it crash with a satisfying weight to the floor.

"Please, dear, don't leave your armour in the hallway. What if our guests were to walk in and fall over it?"

Hawke's stomach lurched and she looked at Leandra with more than a little trepidation. "Our what?"

"Our guests, dear, you cannot possibly expect us not to celebrate your safe return?"

"… since _when_ do we celebrate me coming home from a job…" the reality dawned. "You've invited Alistair, haven't you?"

Leandra tried to mask the grin but only succeeded in smirking. "On first name terms, are we?"

"Mother, I _really_ don't think…"

"Hush now, dear. Orana is seeing to your bath. Your dress is waiting in your room."

Hawke thought about answering back, but the no-nonsense glint in her mother's eyes made her reconsider. This was a battle lost. Although her prowess with a blade was something to be feared, she doubted it would aid her here.

Hawke collected her breastplate and stomped upstairs, feeling a little like a hostile adolescent but not really caring.

"And change your attitude, young lady. It's not every night that one gets to dine with royalty."

"I've done it every day for weeks!"

"Yes, and you can't expect me to let you hog _all_ of the fun."

….

"Drink up, Elf." Fenris was pulled from his thoughts by a mug of swill being plonked onto the table in front of him. "We did good."

Varric moved around the table to sit opposite Fenris.

"You think so?" The Elf replied.

"We came back alive, didn't we?"

"Hmmm… at what cost?"

"At what cost?!" The dwarf choked on his drink. "What do you mean what cost? The villain is slain, our damsel is rescued, and the day is saved… what more do you want…?"

Fenris' failure to respond was all the answer that Varric needed.

"Ahhh, our dear King is on your mind? My friend… that is what we call _jealousy_…"

"Perhaps. But perhaps Hawke would be better off with him? He can provide for her in a way that I cannot. He's a King, and I'm a fugitive."

"Woah! What's brought this on? What happened to the macho Elf who carried Hawke all through the Deep Roads and snapped every time our royal Romeo offered to take her?"

"Let's say I overheard something last night…?"

"Ok… well Hawke was unconscious so I know it wasn't anything _she_ said… and _that's_ all that should matter. Don't you think you owe it to Hawke to find out what _she_ wants?"

Fenris cast him a sideward look. "You know, you may have a point." He took the full mug into his hand tipped it to his lips. Varric watched the Elf take several large gulps and put the empty vessel to rest on the table.

As the white-haired man stood, the stool where he had been seated scraped backwards. He made for the door purposefully. "Where are you going?" The dwarf called after him.

"To find out what she wants."

…

"Of course, you are always welcome here, your Majesty." Leandra crooned from her perch at the head of the table.

"Thank you, my Lady, your humility truly overwhelms us." Alistair returned. "The meal was delicious, and the company, as always, a joy." He caught the blonde's eye and she felt her cheeks flush.

"Ahhh, yes. I suppose I should ask if my daughter behaved herself accordingly on your expedition?"

"Mother!" Hawke scolded. This was beyond insufferable. In true Mother fashion, she had sat Alistair and her daughter directly opposite one another, oblivious to any discomfort she may have unwittingly caused. The night had been spent with the King seemingly trying to send her meaningful looks, and her trying to avoid them.

"I'm only being sociable, darling."

"Speaking of which, I'm afraid that I must do the opposite." Hawke rose from her chair. "Thank you for the meal, but I'm afraid that I don't feel myself."

"Darling! You can't…!"

"Yes I can. Goodnight, Mother." Her eyes swung to acknowledge the sandy haired man who stared at her. "Goodnight, Alistair."

Of course her mother called several protests after her, all of which she pretended not to hear as she ascended to stairs swiftly and swept into her quarters. The young woman pressed her back against the door as it shut behind her with a satisfying click. She sighed.

_Alone at last_.

Hawke moved with some purpose towards the bed, already struggling to undo the ribbons that held the back of her dress. A green garment this time, she hadn't even taken the time to assess her appearance in it. It was coming off, and then she was getting into bed… The dress slid down her back…

The door swung open behind her.

"Mother! I…!" The blonde spun around angrily, sure to face a very red-faced Leandra.

In place of the small, stern woman stood a tall, red-faced, sandy-haired man. "Hawke… I…" He diverted his eyes as the swordswoman hitched the dress back up to her chest.

"Have you not heard of _knocking_?!" She barked.

"I've heard of it…"

"Then, Maker help me, why don't you _do_ it?!"

"Sorry! I just… I need to talk to you…" He braved raising his eyes to see that she now held the green material in place appropriately.

"Can this not wait till morning?"

He took in the sight of her by the window, the candlelit shadows flickering across her face. "I don't think that it can."

"Well, talk then."

Alistair's breath hitched in his lungs.

Could he really do this? He took in the view once more, her blonde hair cascading down her back, her eyes wide in expectation.

She was worth the risk.

"I've been thinking… _a lot_… and I've been thinking that… um… I mean I _thought_ that…"

"Sounds like you've been doing a lot of thinking?" Hawke queried, seemingly amused.

Alistair gave a dejected sigh. He began to move towards her. "It just, we seem to _work_ together, you and I… and… I really… _like_ you."

She blinked. "I like you too."

"No… I _like_ you…"

"That's what you just said."

"..I'm not explaining myself very well, am I?"

"You think you're _explaining_ yourself?"

He wanted to say so much to her, to tell her how he admired her strength, the beauty that she possessed. He wanted to tell her how he had crumpled inside watching her lose faith in herself, how he had been filled with despair when he thought she was dead. How when he had held her so close in that tunnel he had resisted the urge to…

He took one look at the bemused expression across her features and made a decision. He closed the distance between them, took a gentle hold of her bare shoulders and pulled her close to him, pressing his lips to hers.

…

The air was chilled in the street below. A fine mist had settled over Hightown, dulling the usually bright lanterns to a hazy glow. Fenris shivered as he stared at the Amell manor house - whether from the cold or his nerves he struggled to tell.

Nerves. That was a new feeling. Anger, he was used to. Cold fury. Even fear, recently, though never for himself. The clothes were new, too. Varric had insisted on dressing him up like some kind of child's doll, imploring him to 'make an effort' to show he cared. He shifted uncomfortably, the fine silk of his garment making him feel naked. Vulnerable.

A small breeze caught his shirt, tugging it insistently backwards, away from the house. A sign? Or perhaps that was just his own doubts. No. He had to do this. He took a deep breath and steeled himself.

As he took his first step, he heard a shrill, raised voice from the house and stopped. His hand was halfway to his sword before he realised it wasn't there. Before he could decide what to do, the voice came again, and he managed to make out some of the words. "You simply _can't_… not when…"

A wry smile touched Fenris' lips. That was definitely Leandra, and it sounded like Hawke was causing trouble again. Another shout was followed by a slamming door, and the elf felt himself relax.

Shortly afterwards, a lantern was lit in an upstairs room, the warm glow spilling out of the window, illuminating the decorative frescoes around the window. Fenris found his eyes tracing the lines, wondering how long he should wait for Hawke to calm down.

His breath hitched when he saw a slender silhouette move into the window light. Even from here she was beautiful. She reached both arms behind her back, and a moment later he saw the shadow of her dress fall away from her.

He looked away quickly. This was no way to behave, he was no stalker. He wasn't some creep, skulking around in the night to peer into ladies' bedrooms. And yet he couldn't keep his gaze from wandering back up the side of the manor, couldn't stop his eyes from being drawn back to that softly lit window.

Suddenly, the figure in the window spun, then scrambled to pull the material back around her form. He could imagine her, red-faced, shouting in exasperation at the mother that just couldn't let an argument go, her dishevelled hair falling across her face in that way that always stopped him from taking her seriously.

A second figure moved into view, shuffling awkwardly from side to side. Something was wrong, the figure didn't fit the profile of Leandra. It was too tall, too broad shouldered, too… masculine.

Fenris swallowed. A heavy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. His hands clenched and his mouth felt dry. This wasn't happening.

The second figure closed the gap between them, and Fenris saw the man's arms envelop Hawke, pulling her close to him. He turned away, bile rising in his throat. He stood there for several minutes, fighting to keep his lyrium brands from flaring, before stalking into the misty darkness.


	20. Stolen Kisses

The wind whipped through the stark streets that led to the docks, and a familiar salty scent filled Hawke's nostrils. It woke her from her daze.

The walk was an uncomfortable one with a silence so swollen Hawke prayed that it would burst. Full company in tow, yet no one seemed willing to speak… except for Varric, of course, who filled the taut atmosphere with what seemed to be absolute bullshit.

Like how he had fought off the rock-wraith single-handedly in the Deep Roads. How he had hunted down his brother as a vigilante searching for justice for five years… and something about how he had slain six ogres and eight hurlocks in one battle at an abandoned tunnel hideout at Sundermount, pulled Hawke's crumpled figure from the rocky ground and rubble and carried her from the deep and twisted cavern all the way to the surface.

"But Fenris did that this time, didn't he?" Merrill cut in inquisitively.

"Yes he did, Daisy… _anyway_, so there we were. I had Hawke's unconscious body slung across one arm, Bianca primed in the other…"

Hawke fought the urge to laugh when Anders nudged her arm to get her attention only to roll his eyes in a dramatic way with a playful smirk across his lips.

"But didn't you not take Hawke _this_ time because you couldn't carry her _and_ use Bianca?" The elf continued her enquiries with more curiosity and vigour than before.

Varric hesitated, clearly not stumped for more words, but annoyed about the constant interruptions and questions of credibility. "Yes, well, I hurt my wrist before we went down this time… So, I'm there… These _things _are overwhelming the Elf and Blondie… Hawke's out cold, like I said… I had no option, I told those bastards I'd kill 'em if they didn't back off. It was me or them…."

"But wasn't I with you, Varric? Didn't I cast…?"

The dwarf shot the nimble woman a pained expression. "You _can_ let one go, Daisy…"

"This is my stop anyway." Alistair came to a halt as the proud vessel came into sight, "Thank you for the walking me this far, but I think I can make the last few metres on my own…"

Hawke found a particularly interesting spot on the floor to fixate on as Alistair said his goodbyes to the group. Fond farewells to some, and dubious affection to others… and a stiff nod to Fenris…

"Tell Mahariel I said hello, won't you?" Merrill smiled warmly.

"I will." Alistair nodded.

"And promise that you'll come back and visit us again soon."

"I promise."

"And remember to bring Aveline some of those Ferelden boots that she's always complaining about them not making here…"

"… um… I'll see what I can do?"

"And don't forget to…."

"Merrill!" The Guard Captain barked, interrupting the elf mid-flow.

The mage responded by turning her wide-eyed expression to the source of her admonishment. "But you're always telling Donnic that they chafe…"

"I think what Aveline means, Daisy, is…"

"… that you can stop for a minute to catch a breath?" Sebastian cut in with a chuckle.

"Something_ like_ that, yes…" The shield woman muttered, yet not so quietly that it escaped the dark-haired mage's attention. Her expression crumpled.

"Ferelden boots it is, then!" The King laughed lightly, eager to dispel any tension that may have arisen in the brief exchange. "I'll be sure to send you some, where shall I address…?"

"Aveline, Guard Captain, The Barracks…" The white-haired elf at the back of the group all but growled.

"Yeeeees… because that's not being sarcastic at _all,_ is it?" The ex-Warden's eyes narrowed in Fenris' direction.

"I could be blunt, if you'd prefer…?"

"I can be blunter than _that_… **_and_** sharper…"

"… that doesn't make any sense…"

"Maybe it does, maybe you just don't get it…"

"Would you two **knock it off**?" Hawke snapped, glaring at the two men.

"Or what…?" Fenris challenged, seemingly forgetting who he was speaking to.

"Or I'll knock you both on your arses so many times you'll forget what it's like to stand up…" The reply wasn't aggressive, but it wasn't a joking tone either. It was enough to give the bickering men pause.

Isabella sighed in frustration as she looked out to sea. A brusque morning, and the wind was picking up. The wistful expression on her face told Hawke exactly what the pirate was thinking. "Just get on the damned boat before I steal it from you." The Rivaini told Alistair, gesturing to the vessel that waited ready for departure.

"It's almost like you want to get rid of me." The sandy haired man appeared a little affronted, as he raised an eyebrow in question.

"If you're staying **stay**, I'll be sure to give you a warm Kirkwall welcome." She winked, "but if you're going, hurry it up! I've other ventures to… _invest_… myself between."

"You mean _in_?" He frowned.

"Nope, _definitely_ between…" She shot a seductive look towards the three men at the back of the group. Fenris raised an eyebrow seemingly unimpressed, Donnic's expression didn't alter- clearly used to those sorts of attentions from Isabella, and Anders merely rolled his eyes. "Anyway…" The rogue turned her attention back to Alistair, "I'm off to the Hanged Man, the temptation to sail away is getting too… _irresistible. _Take care, maybe when we meet again you'll be more _fun_." She grabbed Merrill's arm as she went past. "Come on, Kitten. We've said our farewells."

"I suppose it's time to make our exit." Varric agreed. "A game of Diamond Back, Elf?"

Fenris didn't reply, rather he shot Alistair a filthy look and took his leave with the pirate, making a point to avoid looking at Hawke.

"Back to the Barracks?" Aveline turned to her betrothed.

"That's the plan…" He gave her a warm smile and followed her.

"Farewell, your Majesty." The red-head gave a clumsy bow, shot her blonde friend a knowing look and disappeared down one of the alleys.

Slowly the group filed away, making their thinly veiled excuses, until only Hawke and Alistair remained on the, otherwise, empty port.

Both lingered, casting swift glances towards the other though eagerly avoiding eye-contact.

The silence was awkward, though Hawke felt unable to break it. She pulled in several breaths ready to speak, though nothing but air seemed willing to pass her lips. How could it? She needed to say something, but she couldn't even _think_ of the words let alone utter them. Should she tell him she would miss him? It was true, but it also seemed pointless.

What difference would it make to the King of Ferelden if _she_ missed _him_?

The blonde felt foolish as she stood, avoiding his gaze, avoiding _words_ of all things, avoiding… avoiding making the decision that she knew in her heart she had already made.

A stupid decision it may be. A decision her mother would probably weep about if she found out.

Every time she dared to raise her eyes, he dropped his gaze to look away.

The shuffling and the whistle of the wind was all the permeated the tension.

"Looks like I was right…" The King sighed eventually. Her eyes raised in surprise. "That elf _really_ doesn't like me, does he?… Wish I knew what I'd done wrong _this_ time…"

"That makes two of us, he's apparently not speaking to _me_ either." Hawke agreed, her heart thudded.

These were not the words she needed to speak, but at least they were something.

"I wish he could see how lucky he is." Their gazes locked, quite by accident of course, but she found herself unable to look away. Hawke felt her cheeks redden as she watched Alistair's do the same. "About last night…"

"I don't know…" She shook her head.

"Well, I presume by your reaction to _punch me in the face_, you're not as into the idea of 'you and me' as I am…" He chuckled, seemingly with some discomfort as he pointed to the black eye he now sported.

"It was instinct!" She defended.

"It was _painful_." He corrected, his usual smile returning. "I suppose it was my fault, I shouldn't have sprung it on you."

"You mean you shouldn't have 'sprung _on_ me'." She returned his gaze with a grin.

Another few moments passed between them, though they seemed warm somehow. This was a comfortable quiet. As they shared soft smiles, Hawke began to wonder if it was really necessary to vocalise how she felt about him.

"Come with me." He told her softly. "Come back to Ferelden with me."

"Alistair…" She began her objection.

"Kestra…" He interrupted her. "Please?" His eyes were wide.

Hawke sucked in a long breath, trying to slow her heart that seemed intent on pounding so hard that she fought the urge hold something to steady herself. "Kirkwall is my home now, Alistair. My mother, my sister… my friends… My life is here. I can't just abandon it."

"Are you sure? Because I'd really like you to…? Can I not order you as your King?" He sighed heavily as she shook her head, a slight yet disappointed smile on his lips. He looked back to her. "It was worth a try, right?"

"Always."

He closed the distance between them, and took her hands into his, his eyes flickered towards the small figures of their comrades who had all but faded into the distance before returning to hold her gaze. "I hope he deserves you. Please remember, if you are ever in need, you have a friend in Ferelden who really _cares_ for you… who you will _always_ be able to find at the palace or the tavern…" He added as if an afterthought.

The blonde nodded. "And you will always have one in Kirkwall. A friend, I mean, not a tavern. Though we do happen to have both…"

"Then I will always have a reason to return." One hand rose to caress her cheek, the other held onto her hand firmly. Hawke felt her cheeks burn as he moved in for a light kiss, though she did not pull away.

The affection she felt for him was real enough, but her heart ached for another.

Perhaps if she had met him first? Perhaps if she had known him at Ostagar? Perhaps…?

Hawke shook her head. These things didn't matter. The fact was she loved another, and as much as he seemed to spurn her, that didn't change. As much as she wished it did sometimes.

When she looked up to him, Alistair stood motionless as if taking her in.

"What?"

"I'm _looking_. So when I come back I've not forgotten what you…"

"Am I _that_ un-noteworthy?" She asked, pulling a face to show that she was joking.

"You know that you're not… not un-noteworthy I mean. And you're _certainly _not forgettable…. For good reasons….I best leave…." He broke from his babbling and released her hand. "If I stay here much longer I might end up chaining myself to the city… But before I do…" He reached into his pocket and pulled fabric parcel free. He pushed it into her hand, his touch lingered for a moment. "I snuck it from the Viscount's garden… for you…"

With curiosity the blonde unfolded the blue material to reveal a somewhat battered, but still unmistakeable…

"A rose?"

"That's right. I'm a flower thief, I'll hold my hands up and admit it…! Thorns frighten me not! Gardeners! Lock up your pots… the King of Ferelden is here to kill archdemons and make off with your orchids!"

"Two roses?" She smiled at him, her suspicions confirmed. "My my… I _am_ a lucky girl…"

"Two? Not sure what you're counting there's only one… _ahhhhhh_… I see. It seems someone stole my idea."

_Maybe not, then._

"Nonetheless, thank you, _Alistair_. For everything."

"Take care, _Kestra_."

He made to move away, yet he only took a few steps before turning on his heel and moving towards her once more. He swept her into an embrace and bid her goodbye in the way he had truly wanted to as he pressed his lips to hers.

….

"Would you just drink your ale and _cheer up_? I'm getting depressed just _looking_ at you."

"Ease up, Rivaini, the Elf's had a rough day." Varric cast a sympathetic glance at the swordsman who didn't respond to either of them.

"You don't think she'll go with him, do you?" Merrill asked quietly, voicing the fear that Fenris refused to acknowledge.

Of course she would go with him, why would she not? He had seen the couple kiss the night before, after all.

He couldn't blame her either. Alistair was a King, not a fugitive ex-slave with disgusting tattoos imprinted all over his body.

"Who knows?" Isabella stretched before leaning back in her chair with her tankard. "I know I would…. What?!" She snapped when the men sent her annoyed glares and Merill looked crestfallen. "It's not like any of _you_ play with me…"

"Neither did _he_." Anders pointed out.

"No… but he has a **_boat_**."

"_Anyway_… back to business." Varric cut in with a sigh. "Describe the wounds on the mage to me again, Elf… you said there were strange incisions…?"

"Do we _have_ to? It's all very gruesome…" The elven mage winced, staring fixedly at the untouched mug of ale Isabella had pushed towards her.

_Says the blood mage_. Fenris through curtly, though presently he lacked the enthusiasm to even insult.

"Just bear with it a little longer, Daisy. We need to piece the puzzle together before we lose any of the pieces…"

"Well being honest, the wounds didn't seem dissimilar to a ritual I watched Danarius perform many times during my servitude. Though I did not recognise the carving in his chest…"

"What was the ritual for?" Merrill queried with more than a little reticence.

"It was a blood ritual, something to do with summoning demons and giving them form I believe. My former master did not fight his own battles, he summoned monsters to do his dirty work _for_ him…"

"I know that ritual." The dark haired elf shuddered. "It was outlawed many years ago by our people. It's said among the Dailish that one of the Keepers of old would summon spirits to help his clan in battle, but he lost control. He called the wrong demon. It's said that the creature he summoned was not content with the phantom form the Keeper offered, and would only accept a sacrifice of flesh and bone… and it was powerful enough to take it for itself. The Clan was slaughtered."

"Blood magic at its most terrifying. You get tales like that drilled into your head in the Circle… You said the carving on his chest looked incomplete, like it was interrupted?" Anders prompted, leaning in slightly to offer any medical expertise necessary to the analysis.

"Yes… it seemed like it was a symbol of some sort… a sun, perhaps?"

"Perhaps, Elf, perhaps..." Varric's eyes swung to take in the figure that lingered behind Fenris. He hadn't noticed him stranding there himself, but then he had not cared to pay much heed to his surroundings. "Can I help you, lad?" The dwarf asked curiously.

The raven-haired youth seemed a little nervous at finally being addressed, and absolutely terrified when he saw the glare Fenris wore. He stuttered out his words when he was finally able to speak. "Serah… Dwarf… you were at the Viscount's ball…"

The rogue chuckled. "Which one…?"

"The one with… my lady." _That_ got Fenris' attention, though he tried not to show it.

"Oh… _that_ ball?" Came the nonchalant reply, as Varric leaned back into his seat.

"Yes, Serah. I heard that she left to brave the Deep Roads… I have not seen her for weeks, I've been to her house, to the Barracks... Tell me, is she safe?"

Varric's languid behaviour became one of unhidden bafflement. "You've been to her _house_?"

"I'm sorry… _who_ are you?" Fenris barked and the lad jumped in alarm though was quickly calmed by Isabella's rather tactile approach.

"Don't let that nasty elf frighten you, sweet thing. Now tell me, what do you want with Hawke?" The pirate closed the distance between herself and the now violently blushing boy… clearly enjoying the effect she was having.

"I've been so worried about her." The blush intensified yet further, Fenris idly wondered if the boy's head was going to pop and if she should aid the process. "I just wanted to tell her… to tell her…"

"To tell her what?" Came a familiar voice from near the entrance.

Fenris' heart leapt when he saw the woman in the doorway. Yet rather than show it, he turned back to his drink.

"Hawke!" Merrill leapt to her feet and rushed to embrace her friend.

The swordswoman blinked in surprise as the elf clung to her desperately. "Merrill, what's wrong?"

"I'm so _glad_ you didn't go Hawke." The words were difficult to make out since the source's head was buried in her friend's shoulder.

"Go? Go _where_?"

"Away with Prince Charming, where else?" Varric chuckled and cast the elf beside him a knowing look that made Fenris want to punch him. Had the dwarf known she wouldn't leave all this time and not said anything? Knowing that the man beside him was agonising over the possibility of her departure? It made the swordsman wonder what else the storyteller knew and didn't divulge… "So, how _was_ our Dear King's departure?"

Fenris twisted to look at her, though was careful not to give much away by keeping his uninterested expression.

"He's got another black eye…" She smirked before continuing, "And Varric, as you well know…Kirkwall is my home," The blonde smiled, finally released from the dailish elf's tight grip, "besides…" Fenris was surprised when Hawke's gaze collided with his and held it for a second; the elf felt the breath in his lungs hitch and his heart jump… "I think I have a reason to stay."

"Of course you do, _me_." Isabella raised her tankard in a salute to her friend, before tipping it to her lips and draining the contents.

"But she wasn't looking at you, Isabella," Merrill pointed out matter-of-factly, "she was looking at Fen…"

"_Anyway_, Hawke," Anders waded in, eager to cut his fellow mage off before she could finish her sentence. "It appears this young man has been looking for you…"

"So I heard. What can I do for you?" The swordswoman took in the sight of the dark-haired, red-faced youth that was shrinking from Isabella's obvious attentions and couldn't help but smile.

"You remember me, my lady?"

"I remember you… but if you're calling me 'lady' I don't think you remember _me_ as well as you think you do…"

"I do!... The thing is… what I wanted to say was… that King put in a good word for me with the Viscount. As a reward, I've been given a bottle of my Lord's finest. I wondered… might you… I mean, if you're not busy… would you care to… care to share it with me?"

Hawke's smile widened, "sounds good to me. I could use a decent drink."

"You're in the Hanged Man…!"

"It could be the Viscount's _bedchamber_, Isabella, it's still _swill_…" Anders grunted, looking into his mug and observing the muddy brown contents.

"So where are we going?" The swordswoman enquired, following the youth towards the door. "Just _please_ don't say that Barracks. No where _near_ the Barracks. I've heard the noises the Guard Captain makes when she's…"

"It's a surprise." The boy smiled shyly, opening the door to let his date for the evening out. Their voices began to trail away and Fenris' stomach lurched. Perhaps he should have saved some of the wine in the cellar in the mansion, if that was truly to way Hawke's heart… rather than smashing it all against the walls… "By the way, did you like your rose? I hope it reached you before you went to the Deep Roads?"

Fenris sat upright. Had he just heard that correctly? He looked back towards the door that Hawke had just departed by. That _boy_ had given her the rose?

As he looked back to the wide-eyed expressions of the people around the table, it confirmed it. Fenris bit his lip.

_Vishante!_

He had never felt so stupid or as ludicrous as he felt in that moment.

"So it _wasn't_ our Dear King?" The beardless dwarf caught the elf's gaze.

"Shut up." He replied drily.

"So you were horrible to Hawke for no reason then?" Merrill's light airy voice added. How he wanted to reach into her chest and silence her permanently.

"Not to mention that you've spent weeks insulting the King of Ferelden for weeks for something he didn't _do_…" The Rivaini cut in, peering into her empty tankard.

"I'd still have insulted _him_; he's an idiot."

"And you might have lost Hawke in a situation you created _yourself_…" Anders chimed in with his usual 'I told you so' tone that made the elf want to kill him even _more_ than he usually did.

"Fine!" Fenris snapped, slamming his fist onto the table to halt the conversation. "I don't deserve her, is that what you want to hear? _Venhedis_! Stop telling me things I already know." The sigh that left him was a heavy one, and one full of remorse. "I've been such a fool."

"Well, I've not wanted to say anything, but yes you have… even _more_ than usual…"

"You're not helping, Kitten…"

"Look Elf," Varric pushed a full pint in front of his friend, that he seemed to have bought in anticipation, "you're never gonna know how cold the water is until you jump in. Remember what I told you in the Deep Roads?"

"What? About Hawke being as smart as your average nug?"

"No. Not that bit… and um… please forget I said that… if Hawke found out I have a feeling it would be… _unhealthy_ for me… No… 'don't think, just do'."

"Don't think, just do?" The blonde mage at the table seemed a little unimpressed.

"Works for me _all_ the time." The Rivaini winked in Merrill's direction who giggled.

"It's all that messed up thinking that keeps messing things up. Just _do_…"

"Just do…" In one swift movement, the pint of ale was lifted from the table and after a few seconds it was returned to its spot, now empty. "No fancy clothes, this time, dwarf…"

"No fancy clothes, no flowers, no wine… just _do_."

There was a scraping of wood as Fenris stood and light footfalls as he took his speedy exit.

"Do you think she'll forgive him?" Anders asked aloud once the door had swung shut and an awkward yet strangely charged stillness settled on those that remained.

The dwarven archer sucked in a breath between his teeth, "difficult to say, Blondie. Maybe we should have asked Choirboy to say a prayer for him…?"

"I think he'd have to say more than one!"

….


	21. Epilogue

Aaaand done! A big, heartfelt thank you to everybody that's supported this story with views, reviews and follows/favourites, I hope you all enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

Follow on story in the works, so stay tuned!

* * *

Hawke made her way through the empty Hightown streets, with nothing to distract her from thoughts she would rather not think.

Samuel had insisted he walk her home, of course, but she had very much _insisted_ otherwise. He was sweet, and quite obviously smitten… but he was not for her… _maybe in a few years time?_

A vision of Alistair entered her mind, his warm smile and his soft eyes… why hadn't she left with him? Returned home? Back to Ferelden. She could have had all the roses she wanted then.

Of course, she knew why.

And it wasn't anything to do with her mother or Bethany, as much as she had spent the night trying vainly to convince herself that it was.

It seemed so cruel that she had fallen for the one man who seemed intent on avoiding her affections. Of course, he infuriated her at times… but Hawke could always see past that somehow.

She could always see the core of him. The honest, unwaveringly loyal, caring, affectionate core… of course it had taken some time given the elf's very prickly exterior, but that made the effort all the more rewarding.

He wasn't someone who gave his affections or his respect freely. You earned every compliment or complaint, every embrace or rebuke, every word of affection and every word of ire…

Of course _what_ she had done to earn the latter recently, she had no idea. It made her feel cold to be in such doubt, but she had made her choice now.

Hawke gratefully took in the sight of her house as she turned the corner, but frowned as she caught sight of movement. A shadow of a figure outside her front door?

Hawke pushed her back against the wall and tried to conceal herself in the shadows, her hand falling to the blade at her back. Stealth was by no means her strength, but she had her sword to compensate.

An attacker…? A burglar targeting the house? It didn't matter. The bastard would taste steel.

Yet as she crept forward, the figure lingered and eventually sat down on the bench by the bushes. She could make out the silhouette... only the one person.

By all accounts it would be a fairly shitty ambush, and the character seemed too sedentary for a burglar, making no attempt to find other points of entry.

Curiosity bested her caution and Hawke made her way towards the door… although she hesitated to admit it to herself, she was rather enjoying the idea of venting her disappointment on the poor idiot who dared challenge her so openly.

The shadow shrank, seemingly disappearing into the night, and the swordswoman cursed under her breath, with just a little more venom than usual.

He had heard her coming no doubt, and run away.

_Cowardly bastard_.

On her approach, Hawke noticed some wet footprints on the fabric that led to the front door, and a heavier stampede around the centre… almost like someone had been pacing.

_She would have to ask Orana to buy a new rug,_ she thought as she stomped through the door. Normally she would take care to tread lightly on the stairs so as not to disturb her mother, but tonight her steps echoed around the hall until she slammed her bedroom door behind her.

Tonight was different. Tonight she didn't care.

With less tact than decorum allowed, Hawke let her armour slam to the floor where it would remain unmoved for the remainder of the night. She tossed her gauntlets onto the bedside table with little grace and dropped her sword by her bedside with a loud thud.

She cursed Alistair… though she didn't mean it.

She cursed Fenris… though she didn't mean that either.

She cursed herself.

A door shut beyond her room and Hawke's breath hitched. She pursed her lips and slowed her agitated breathing.

She was sure that had been the front door. Someone in the house?

Hawke reached out for the blade but then decided against it. From the all but silent movement downstairs, the intruder was clearly not armoured, and simple burglars were seldom armed.

She would have to be just as stealthy. Isabella hadn't taught her nothing after all.

Hawke crept down the stairs. Her pounding heart muted, her fists clenched and eyes peeled.

She turned her eyes to the entrance of the house.

The figure that sat in the chair before her made her nearly squeak in surprise, but she managed to stifle the sound. She silently congratulated herself on holding her dignity so admirably.

It was certainly a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. By no means an unpleasant one…. The figure rose from his perch as he saw her.

"…Fenris?"

"I have been thinking of you." The white haired elf stalked forwards, eyes locked on her like a hunter on his prey. The intensity of his stare sent butterflies through her stomach. "In fact I've been able to think of little else." Hawke was too taken aback to do anything other than stand, rooted to the spot by a heady mixture of breathless shock and desire, with a strangely exciting hint of fear. She had never seen him so intent. So _dangerous._ He stopped, his face mere inches from her own, and the weight of his gaze was almost suffocating. Hawke felt her heart pound. "Command me to go and I shall."

She _knew_ she should be angry at him. She _knew_ that her mother would give birth to kittens and that she'd never hear the end of it. She _knew_ that Anders would lecture her until her ears bled. She _knew_ that Bethany would probably be severely unimpressed…

Hawke _knew_ all of these things. And she didn't give a shit.

"No need."

Their lips met and their bodies pressed together. One arm wrapped around her waist, the other around the back of her neck as he pulled her close, pressing her hard against his chest as if desperate and hungry to hold her as near to him as he could.

That was feeling that the blonde knew well.

Hawke lost herself in the warmth of the kiss, and the strength of his embrace.

…She would deal with her mother in the morning...


End file.
